


Starlight Is Forever

by rosesisupposes



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Allusions to smut, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate universe - Mafia, Lies, M/M, Past Loceit, Past Relationship(s), Puns & Word Play, Secret Identity, Spies & Secret Agents, Suggestive Themes, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Transphobia mention, brotherly Logicality - Freeform, brotherly prinxiety - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: A highly-trained spy is send to infiltrate one the most prolific and dangerous crime families in the world. His targets? The family heirs: twins Roman and Virgil. Who just so happen to be multilingual, rich as sin, and utterly and entirely attractive.He's in serious trouble.





	Starlight Is Forever

**Author's Note:**

> The title is an allusion, of course, to Diamonds Are Forever by Ian Fleming. Who, incidentally, helped create backstories/cover stories for double agents for MI6 during WWII.
> 
> A discord story gone amok. It started as a musing, and I _swear_ it was going to be short, once upon a time

It's a bright grey London morning when Logan picks up a newspaper and a breakfast pastry at the shop around the corner. Returning to his small but elegant flat, he reads through headline references to 'fishy situations' and 'jam-packed.' They don’t appear in the regular Guardian, of course. This one’s just for him. The date has been changed, too, to this date next year. It could so easily look like a misprint. But it's his handler's way of telling him "prepare for a very long stay if needed." So, accordingly, he packs up his bags, sends the large ones through three different trusted contacts (none of whom know each other, of course), and buys an airline ticket under one of his 2 dozen passports to the island of Sardinia.

When an organization or agency works with an asset with as much skill as Logan has, they tend to treat them _very_ well. He’s paid obscenely well, the kind of money that ensures he’ll never be tempted by money alone to defect to another nation, another organization, or the other side of the law. They also make sure he never gets bored. Logan doesn’t get stuck in a single undercover placement- he gets subtle communiques from the practically-invisible multinational organization that pays him as they send him to a new city, a new target, a new objective on a regular basis.

He’s never met his handler, or most of the team that oversees his assignments. He could walk past them on the street without a flicker of recognition, recognizing only the voice of the kind doctor who conducts his mission debriefs. He just receives communiques as these subtle, _punny_ hints in the newspaper. It was... infuriating, at first. The very first message with the new handler had been an encrypted one-time call to tell him the drop-point: rotating paper delivery people in his neighborhood. He'd picked up the first one, looking for ciphers, or slight changes in the type, or even significant pinpricks along the side of the paper. Instead... the headlines and bylines are just ever-so-subtly changed into puns. Puns that give direction for a location, or a person, or even the instruction to go to ground and lay low. The number of exasperated sighs he’s expelled as he figures out a new set of instructions is probably higher than his number of successful missions. _Probably._

He used to hate it with a passion and wished only for a new handler, until the time an enemy agent had been in the city and managed to intercept a communique The other agent hadn't even noticed the change. Hadn't made the connection in the slightest. Perhaps it was because Logan has a particular love of language and its intricacies that he recognized  them immediately. It's how he originally got into codebreaking, after all. Now, at last, he appreciates his handler's odd methods, because they _work._ And it means that whoever it is sending him messages, they studied him and his affinities incredibly well in the transition from the previous team.

Further information greets him in the paper on the bedside table in the prepared safe house in Sardinia- his target is actually _targets._ The two heirs of an international crime syndicate. They're close to inheriting, or at least at the age their mothers became the Donnas. Logan's mission: learn as much as he can about the heirs. See if they will indeed succeed their mothers, or if only one will. What are their affiliations? Can they be turned, or compromised, or controlled? It is a high-stakes mission. Even the most casual research available to him shows years, no, decades of theft, trafficking, intimidation, and murder. The family has a certain twisted honor: they won't chase down rival families or cartels, won't harm civilians even if they're connected to rivals. But that doesn't prevent them from casually eliminating obstacles, be they bureaucratic or human. And they're known for their particular loathing of informants and infiltrators. Logan smiles, contemplating the risks ahead. It's always nice to be challenged

* * *

It's ironic that a family with such a troubled history has the last name Cavaliere, but the world works in odd ways. And Logan appreciates the irony in the same way he appreciates the puns (Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. Not that he'd know who to admit it to). He quickly discovers that the heirs are twins, but can only find one name easily. Everyone, _everyone_ knows the name Roman Cavaliere. Logan expected the recognition to be tinged with fear - but it's not. It's admiration, and quite a lot of infatuation. And throughout the island, Roman is lovingly referred to as Sardinia's Prince. It's mostly loving, at least. Not at all fear, because of what he will inherit. Not at all. Strangely enough, the other twin is rarely spoken of, though everyone knows he exists.

Logan finds a delivery job with his smooth, bump-free work history created for just this occasion and his unaccented Italian that matches the local dialect perfectly. He does have rather a talent for language, after all. Under the name Luca Principe, he is able to work making deliveries to the Cavaliere estate, as the sprawling compound is known. He uses his time to lurk in the corners, hearing the workers chatter idly. Never about family business, of course, but daily house gossip. And that's how he learns that the twins have an outing they actually make together. Not often, but enough. And one's coming up soon.

The twins go out for their outing - a private showing of a movie, before the masses get to see it. Luca is suddenly an usher at the theatre, still unassuming and genial and perfectly Sardinian. Logan is surprised to realize that the movie is a Disney movie. He somehow expected something more _dramatic,_ for the two heirs to one of the biggest black market fortunes in the world. But there's no shortage of drama, it turns out. Part of the justification for a private showing, besides the exclusivity, turns out to be because the twins _cannot shut up during a movie._ Immediately, they're egging on characters and speculating on possibly twists and arguing about what the main point will be.

It takes quite a while for Logan to finally learn the second twin's name, because Roman seems to delight in increasingly ridiculous nicknames. But finally, there it is.

"No! Hans is too pretty to be evil! You can't suspect every single prince of being evil, Virgil!"

"Fuckin' watch me, princey-boy." (Logan personally thinks the victory dance when Virgil was proven correct at the end was a _little_ much).

Roman's revenge, of course, is embarrassing Virgil by reminding him how much like Elsa and Anna they are, because Virgil is also moody as shit and would move to a mountainous ice castle in a heartbeat, and Roman is basically a princess who would die for his sibling.

"Aw Ro, you'd die for me?"

"Of course, Short, Dark, and Stormy."

"I'm only a half-inch shorter and you know it."

"That still makes me the tall one! And as the taller and older sibling, I will do anything for my baby brother."

"Then perish." Logan has to cover his mouth to keep from snorting in laughter at Virgil's deadpan, but any sound he makes is covered by the indignant squawks coming from Roman's mouth.

It's as they're walking out that Logan gains the nugget of information he's been needing.

"So, am I going to be able to convince you to come to that play next month?"

"...ehhhh."

"C'mon, you're gonna love it, I swear. It's all moody and dramatic, just like you. And it's Shakespeare."

"Just because the tutors say I'm fluent doesn't mean I really _get_ English."

"Do you need a new tutor then?"

"Honestly, yeah, I kinda hate my language instructor. He's one of Uncle Antonio's friends. Kinda creepy and super slimy."

"Would you say he's _super-_ cilious?"

Logan groans internally. Another one. This heir would love his handler. But this, at last, is his key to getting inside the estate. He gets a couple contacts from local universities to give him glowing recommendations. He passes all the background checks with flying colors (and just enough grey area that he doesn't appear overly-clean). And within a week, he's a personal language tutor to the one and only Virgil Cavaliere.

* * *

As the usher, he didn't actually see the second twin in the theatre. He only heard the low voice, quick to jab and parry back at his twin's ringing tones and loud declarations. The first day he walks in to the private study where he is to instruct his new pupil, he needs all his training to not lose his composure.

He was expecting short. He forgot that Roman is 5'11". Making Virgil... 5'10" and a half. Logan stares up into beautiful hazelnut eyes in olive skin with chocolate hair and _why can he only think of food comparisons._

Part of what makes Logan so good at his job is that he has a generic-looking face, one that could be anybody. His skin is in the perfect tan shade to pass for Italian, or Spanish, or even light-skinned Latino or mixed-race black. Virgil, on the other hand, is quintessentially Italian and Sardinian, every inch the family heir. And with his distinctive, dramatic black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, he is _unique._

Holding in emotions is most of what a spy does. Holding in emotions, collecting information, and shaping his voice and actions to expectations. Logan excels in all these. But every ounce of training is needed to keep himself from losing his cool and reacting to this beautiful man. Who he's going to be working, in close proximity, for the foreseeable future. Instructing him in one of his own personal favorite subjects. Daily. Alone.  _Fuck._

He knows he can do it - he's had to before. But previous targets, he knew from the beginning that he would end up killing them or setting them up to be killed. It was easier to not allow a single shred of attachment. But Virgil, he needs to assess. He needs to get to know him well enough to know if he plans to follow in his mothers' footprints. If he can be convinced to alter the organization, or abandon it, or give information on the network. He can't be aloof, not even internally.

Virgil, on the other hand, sees a slightly shorter (but then, most people are shorter) man with bright, intelligent eyes behind plain black frames, who's wearing a tie, and carrying an intimidatingly huge copy of Shakespeare's Complete Works and an Italian-English dictionary. Virgil is incredibly intimidated. And incredibly, incredibly attracted. It's a terrible curse of his upbringing. intimidation just... ruins him.

Virgil was also raised and groomed in a international crime syndicate, so trusting new people from outside the family is kind of a no-go. He really only trusts his brother. He loves their moms, but they've spent almost 50 years in the very top of the business. Everything's an angle. Basically, if pining were a sport, Virgil would have more gold medals than he has signed emo band albums. And he has a _lot_ of signed emo band albums.

Logan is surprised by how little Virgil speaks, even in Italian. After hearing him firing back at his brother, he expected him to be louder. But instead he responds in one- or two-word phrases, and shrugs, and nods.

Finally, he offers: "I feel as though I may be making you uncomfortable. I want to assure you, my purpose here is entirely to be a helpful instructor in language." ~~It’s not entirely a lie, all his other ends can be served by being a good tutor.~~ "If there's anything I'm doing that you'd rather I change, I am more than willing and eager to do so."

"I'm just. Not that good at this," Virgil mutters. "Just keep talking, I'll get it eventually."

Logan frowns. As someone with a gift for languages, he recognizes that same ability in Virgil. Why doesn't this man recognize the talent in himself?

Then a loud voice echoes through the hallways, singing _Let It Go._ It takes Logan a second to pick up on it, but the voice is singing not just the regular song, but the international version. The one that switches to every language it's been recorded in. All twenty-five. Logan ducks out into the hallway to see Roman twirling down the hallway. He shuts the door as he comes back into the tutoring room.

"I see." He sits down across from Virgil and pushes the open Complete Works towards him. "Virgil, let's make a bet."

The Italian leans back in his chair, eyebrow raised. He doesn't accept immediately, but he'll listen.

"You read this speech, and translate it into your own words, in any language or languages you want. If you make a single mistake, I will do exactly one service for you, of any kind, no additional questions asked. Because I am betting that you know more than you give yourself credit for."

"...what do I do if I don't mess up?"

Logan smirks. "Well, you'll have proved you have perfect language mastery, for one. But you already have that. So your punishment will be going to see this play with your brother."

"What's to stop me from just fucking up on purpose, Specs? I could get a free service from you and you'd be none the wiser." Virgil smirks like he's just solved a riddle, tilting his chin up in some sort of challenge.

Logan just smiles. "You can do that. I'll respect the terms if you do."

Virgil's eyes narrow. "What's the catch."

"No catch."

"There's always a catch."

"Not this time. You seem sure you're not talented. I wouldn't punish you for accurately assessing your skill. If you make deliberate mistake, I'll just be disappointed."

Virgil was definitely not already attracted to this elegant tutor with the lovely deep voice. So that is not at all why the idea of disappointing him hurts so much.

Virgil starts reading the passage, first aloud in English, to get a feel of it.

 

>  "Now is the winter of our discontent  
>  Made glorious summer by this sun of York"

He runs through, and Logan notes that even just mumbling to himself, he never misses a line break - he immediately follows which sentences span lines, and nimbly navigates the punctuation.

 

> "And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,  
>  To entertain these fair well-spoken days,  
>  I am determined to prove a villain."

In terms of plays to alight Virgil's interest, Roman's done very well, even if he doesn't realize quite why. There's plot and backstabbing, villains running rampant, and lots of backroom murders. Ambition is the play's lifeblood and the kingdom's succession is its bones.

But there's also a main villain who is not just driven by ambition, but by a driving feeling of isolation, of outsider-ness, who's convinced he can't compare to his parent, or his brother, in key ways. And Virgil gets so caught up that he starts excitedly switching from Italian to French to English slang as he walks through it, drawing on a clear knowledge of English history and the backstory of this play to fully 'translate' the speech. And his cheeks flush with excitement and his eyes are sparkling and Logan is _so gay._ And, of course, so very, very _vindicated._

Virgil reaches the end and looks up from the page, and sees Logan smiling in an odd way. He doesn't recognize it, nor does anyone who's both alive and free, but it is the smile Logan gets when he is absolutely besotted with the object of his attention (Only his collection of carnivorous plants get this look on a regular basis. They live in a specialty greenhouse while he's away on assignments).

When Roman learns that after one session with the new tutor, Virgil's willing to come to the theatre, he is ready to kiss this nerd (This does not mean much. Roman is willing to kiss a lot of people. He's Italian, after all). Logan gets caught by a full family greeting with multiple cheek kisses the next day he comes in, Roman grinning the whole time.

"Hello Pocket Protector! I'm Roman, the elder Cavaliere son. Thank you for getting my emo nightmare of a brother to come see art with me!"

"I heard that, and I happen to _like_ that nickname, thanks very much," Virgil interrupts. "Please stop manhandling my tutor."

Logan isn't sure if he imagined the emphasis on "my." It was probably his own gay panic.

Then he sees Roman's eyes flick to his brother, then back to him. A smirk appears then vanishes in an eyeblink, and Roman's nodding, sauntering off and calling "I'll leave you to it, i miei lovelies." Logan's highly skilled in recognizing others' thoughts, even on their faces. He may not be an expert in these particular men, but Roman is clearly an expert on his brother. And unlike his brother, Roman's face is an open book. Logan swallows, hard. He wasn't imagining anything. Roman think Virgil likes him, too. That... complicates things.

Logan is delighted and wary about how quickly he and Virgil are bonding during their every-other-day sessions. Frequently, 'tutoring' just turns into a debate or joint rant about literature or the world. One day they go down the weird, weird rabbit hole of memes. Turns out, Virgil loves them. He started following the strange linguistic culture as a way to try to understand English slang. Now he's addicted. And then in the middle of a conversation about America he said something along the lines of "those fuckin' haw-yees" and Logan was utterly sidetracked into learning _what the fuck_ that meant. They both swear, a lot. Logan tried not to at first but Virgil gets more confident in his language skills when he doesn't self-censor at all, so he gives in, and profanity becomes just another language that weaves around the small classroom.

He sends a rare message back to his handler, after another successful session where he was able to get Virgil to rant about fairytales and how the originals are so much better than the Grimm versions. He uses a combination of code words and cipher back with a one-time key, given the security of the building he's sending back to. Even if another handler decrypts his message, they won't be able to comprehend it entirely. "On guard with knights. Vines emerging. Send in the horses."

* * *

One day, Virgil is already in the study, slumped over a desk, when Logan arrives. Logan greets him and receives only a grunt in response. He shrugs, and settles down across the desk. If Virgil's not slept enough again, might as well wait until he wakes up more, rather than dragging out a groggy conversation. It's quiet, except for the clock on the wall, but not uncomfortably so. Just patient.

"...you ever feel like you were just born into the wrong family?" a small voice asks in Italian, at length.

Logan remembers sunny warm summers with a very physically affectionate father, not to mention uncles, aunts, and cousins, and a younger brother who hugged back, who gave off love as easy as breathing in a way that everyone could understand.  Not like Logan, who didn't like being crowded and manhandled. Not like Logan, with his careful arranging of craft supplies and buying people's favorite brands and making sure the best coffee mugs were clean. Familial love was touch, and Logan's was acts of service. Service that was never quite noticed, never quite appreciated. Never loved in return.

"Yes, I did. For years."

"You don't feel that way anymore?"

Logan hesitates, then says, "I'm... not really _in_ the family, anymore."

Virgil's head lifts slightly from where it's been buried in his hoodie-covered arm. "...ah," he says, thankfully without pity. "Um. Can I ask...?" Logan nods. "Do you miss them?"

Logan makes eye contact. That's not the question he expected. But he'll answer anyway. "I thought I would but- I get a postcard every couple of years. And send one back, every couple of years. It's enough, for me at least."

Virgil seems to ponder this, and Logan takes a risk. "Do you want to... discuss it? Something has evidently sparked a reaction since I was last here."

"...how much do you know about my family?"

Logan does not blink too much. He doesn't hesitate unduly. "As much as anyone who's grown up on Sardinia."  ~~Only partially a lie.~~

"My mo- Some of the older family members wanted me in a high-level meeting. Or, wanted me and my brother. To hear about... a family reunion."

Is Logan practically holding his breath hoping that Virgil goes into more detail? No, of course not, that would be unprofessional and he'd be caught immediately. He's nodding sympathetically and _internally_ holding his breath. “Do you want to participate in a reunion?” he asks evenly.

Virgil finally uncurls, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. "I love my family. Especially Ro. He's dramatic and extra and annoys the shit out of me, and I would die for him in a heartbeat."

Logan does not ask how literally Virgil means that. "But?" he prompts instead.

"But I... don't know that I can... plan as much of the reunion as they want me to. I don't know if I have the skill."

"Would they be open to you planning less? Or just attending, without planning?" Logan won't be the one to break the metaphor, but he suspects Virgil's forgotten that most of the island knows far more detail of his family's exploits than they ever admit out loud.

"I... don't know. And Roman would be the one who has to plan everything I choose not to."

Virgil is jiggling his knee, not making eye contact, and seems to not be entirely aware that Logan is still there. "It's not what I would prefer to do with my time, but if it means keeping Roman safe and out of trouble, it'll be worth it."

"...how much time will it take?" Logan asks softly.

"The rest of my life," Virgil responds without pause. Suddenly, he seems to remember who he's talking to, and coughs awkwardly, blushing. "...I would, um. Be on the hook for reunion planning every year. That's why."

Logan smiles crookedly. "I'm from Sardinia, Virgil. I know."  ~~Do the little lies matter, at this point? What's a small falsehood like this, in the face of everything he's said before?~~

~~And yet.~~

Virgil's mouth quirks up in a matching smile. Lopsided, not fully happy, but mirroring Logan's. Impulsively he reaches out and grabs the hand that Logan's left on the desk. "Thank you for listening, Luca. I know this isn't what you signed up for, but I just... I don't have many people to talk to about this. Any of this."

Logan clasps Virgil's hand back, pretending it's actually his hand that's being held, actually Logan Corwan's hand, not Luca Principe's, not just the person he is this month and year.

* * *

Back when he first got into this business, having no relationships or emotional attachments seemed easy. And it has been, for the most part.

And then he met these damn twins.

He admires Roman's skill and energy as much as he rolls his eyes at his "extraness" (Virgil's term). And Virgil - well. If ever there was a time he'd considered burning down his old life, using all his skills to go off the map and start anew... it's now.

And that's why he called in backup. He knows it's happening - he's getting compromised. And if he's compromised, the mission is compromised. And if the mission is compromised... he'll have to leave anyway. Never see either twin again. Hell, never see the _island_ again, if the organization can help it.

But he's never actually worked with another agent. Doesn't know any, besides his personal contacts and enemies. He has no idea who will be sent in. Or even if they've arrived already.

Should he, perhaps, have noticed that Roman's been waking up later and later? ...yes

Should he, perhaps, have noticed that Virgil keeps mentioning how Roman's been partying harder than normal? ...also yes

Why is the best agent in the world performing at anything less than 100% in one of his most high-profile missions of the last 10 years? Because he is excellent at detecting emotion in everyone else.

And ever since he realized that Virgil certainly is not indifferent to him, he has been paying, perhaps, too much attention to his reactions and neglecting the world around him. But after their most recent conversation, he snaps his attention back to the household as a whole, and subtly makes room for Roman to barge in on tutoring sessions.

The twins' laughter from the study room greets him one day, Virgil doing that thing where he laughs so hard he snorts and starts crying a little bit and no, Logan has not been memorizing Virgil's laugh, or keeping lists of what makes him laugh the most.

Roman is grinning, his face alight, and Logan recognizes the look of a kindred soul, both of them drinking in every second of Virgil's laughter because of how much they both love him. The type of love may be different, but the methods overlap. Logan finally tunes in enough to hear what Roman's saying, and it turns out there's a particular reason he's been out late so often. A man.

"A manly man. A man who is manly. And Dio, che uomo! He smiles comme le soleil, and his laugh is like silberne Glocken!" Roman falls dramatically backward, smiling fondly. "And his jokes!! Oh, goodness gracious, Virgil, I really think you'd like him. Won't you come meet him with me some night?"

"Where do you meet him?"

"Oh, he's the bartender at my favorite club! I met him last week, and he said he'd just been switched to the late shift, which is okay, because he loves meeting people when they're having the most fun!"

Virgil rolls his eyes, still giggling. "Okay, Romeo, I'll come meet him. Which one's the current favorite bar? You change every other month."

"I do not!"

"You super do."

"...okay maybe, but I won't anymore, not now that I’ve met _him!_ And the bar is Serpente dell'Eden."

Virgil huffs. "You would pick the most expensive bar in the city, wouldn't you. Fine, I'm in. But no abandoning me on the dancefloor this time."

"I promise you, I will be planted at the bar the whole night."

"...I don't believe that for a second. Hey, uh, Luca, do you want to come too? Keep me company?"

Logan starts. "Um. Are you asking me as your tutor?"

Virgil colors faintly, barely enough to show up on his olive skin. "Oh, shit, yeah, the family is technically paying you to be here, aren't we. Sorry. Forget I asked."

Logan jumps in. "No, I don't mean I won't come, I just... I'd rather come as your friend."

After Logan’s comment, Virgil’s blush gets much, much worse. Roman, on the other hand, has come back to earth just in time to look between his twin and the ~~frankly very attractive, if not his type~~ tutor, and he grins evilly. “Oh Luca, mon amour, meine Leibe, you _must_ come. Dante will be delighted to meet you!”

Virgil elbows his twin in the ribs, hard. “Shut _UP_ shutupshutup,” he growls.

“My dear brother, my kin, my evil clone, do you want me to tell our friend Luca he is _not_ invited?”

“Why, in name of god and all that is holy, will you not shut up?”

Roman laughs in brass bells and percussion, looping his arm through Virgil’s and whispering in his ear, “Because I remember what happened last time you told me not to help at all with a crush and I never want to hear the ‘Regret’ playlist on repeat for that many weeks on end again.”

Roman decides that Virgil’s renewed blush and lack of objections means it is Time To Go! But Logan coughs and looks down at his black polo and tie. “Do you by any chance have more appropriate clothes I could borrow?”

Roman gasps in delight as he cries, “Oh Luca! Please let me be your fairy godfather, I will clothe you in the finest Sardinia can offer!”

Virgil’s eyes go wide and he grabs Logan’s wrist. “It is _imperative_ that you decline Roman’s offer.”

“Why?”

“He hasn’t changed for the club yet. Trust me, you’ll understand. You like black, though, so I can help you.”

Logan’s jeans are deemed acceptable by the twins, but the polo is traded for a black tee that fits decently despite the height difference. Virgil disappears into a closet so big Logan thought it was a second bedroom and re-emerges in black skinny jeans and a purple tank that matches the eyeshadow he’s touching up. “You want any?” he offers, gesturing to a dizzying array of makeup.

Logan would decline were it a personal outing, but he can never forget he’s working, at all times. So he switches his glasses for contacts and applies sharp-winged eyeliner with a practiced hand. Turning back, he catches Virgil staring. Then Virgil also catches Virgil staring, and Logan is sure the tall man would be visibly blushing if he hadn’t just reapplied foundation.

When they re-emerge, Logan half-wonders if glitter got stuck in his contact. Roman is just... sparking. Red and gold sequins cover his tank, where it isn’t gold mesh, that is. And his white pants have a sequin stripe running down the sides that match his pure glitter eyeshadow.

“It only took you half an hour, Ro? How did you say goodbye to your mirror so quickly?”

Roman sticks his tongue out at his twin and makes a show of turning away to speak to Logan instead.

By the time they’ve (hired a car that costs more than even Logan makes in a year, with champagne in the backseat, and at least two toasts on the way) made it to the club, Logan has sunk entirely into his cover. He’s a tutor willing to let loose, but not enough that he owns clubbing clothes. He knows how to strike this balance. He’ll stick by Virgil’s side - to continue gaining the target’s trust, of course. No other reason. He needs to _stay in character._ He can’t get too attached- that is, more attached than he is already. He’ll leave Sardinia, inevitably. He’ll have to. The only question is if he can maintain the mission long enough that he’ll be able to exit gracefully. It might be his only chance of saying goodbye.

He doesn’t pretend to have no emotions- he is human, after all. But unbridled emotion, in this business? That’s just a liability.

Arriving at the club, Serpente dell’Eden, feels like stepping back in time. If he wasn't so sure he'd never been to the island before, Logan would have sworn he'd been in this bar in the past. The vibe is, frankly, _loud,_ but there's the mirrored walls and apple motifs and gold filigree leaves sprouting from the ceiling and columns and...

* * *

_Logan is young, far younger than now. He's on his second mission ever, riding the high of a successful solo mission in New York. He's sent, almost as a reward, to a cushy target in Paris. The child of a known art thief, who the whispers say know what happened to the stash of priceless paintings when the thief vanished._

_All the reports talk about a daughter, but Logan, currently known as Phillippe, sees the mistake instantly and makes a note to petition for better gender diversity training back at HQ. He eyes the young man matching the target’s description from across the bar, and sees him, in turn, eyeing other men as they walk by. He approaches a bartender, letting himself casually turn as he orders a drink. "And what can I get for you, handsome?"_

_The young man smiles, glittery green and gold eyeshadow matching the gold accents on his collar. "Always a rare pleasure to meet a gentleman here in Paris. I shall have a Manhattan, please." Logan grins and slides onto the stool next to him, ordering his own drink with a nod._

_"An Old Fashioned? You really are a gentleman," the man grins. Logan is a bit surprised that no one was talking to this charming creature before, but then sees how others' eyes run up and down his body, accompanied by a slight flinch. Ah. Transphobes. Even in the City of Love._

_The two young men chat, and Logan eventually learns that his name is D'Artagnan. Yes, he chose it himself, isn't it just_ _dashing_ _? And Logan makes a quip about sleeping with married queens, to which D'Artagnan replies, smirking, that he's rather sleep with a prince. Particularly if any are rather close at hand._

_And Logan, as Philippe, smiles._

_Smiles and smirks and teasing hands guide them home and they burn together, more than any alcohol ever could. And Logan relaxes for the first time in what feels like years. He stays the night, waking up slow and drowsy and so very comfortable. And he rolls over to see D'Artagnan (Danton, he's insisted he call him as a nickname) smiling so very softly at him and he burns, sunlight spilling into his eyes and his chest._

_Phillippe, the clockmaker's apprentice, has been seen out and about Paris with_ ~~_what's her, no, his new name? ah yes:_~~   _D'Artagnan for almost two months when Logan finally manages to sneak around the family mansion without Danton noticing. He breezes through the kitchen and entryways and sitting rooms and follows his instincts to a clock on the wall. It's fake, but it conceals a lock that Logan is easily able to pick. There's a reason he chose this particular cover profession - all those delightful little gears and mechanisms._

_He finds a hidden study, where there are account books. They're in cipher, of course, but he recognizes the canvas numbers and allusions. The paintings are being moved. With ice building in his veins, he sees flashes of recent memory. The signatures at the bottom of restaurant bills. The calling cards left for him at his small flat closer to the edge of the city. The lovely, sweet notes he's woken up to, those early working days. They match the handwriting in these ledgers. Danton is the one moving the paintings. He's in his mother's work. He's making a profit, even now. He may even be arranging further heists._

_Logan contacts his handler that night - the previous one, who he'd met face-to-face. An intimidating, huge man, the one who prepared the dossier on Danton. They arrange a meeting. And Logan returns to the flat the agency pays for. It’s never really been his._ _He sits in the window. He's just close enough to see la Tour Eiffel, that beautiful monument from a different age, la Belle Epoque. Hasn't that been the last two months? A beautiful era. He has felt... loved. And loving, in return. With a man who is so happy to be loved as such that he gives and gives and_ _gives_ _._

_But he is a criminal, one who's broken dozens of international laws and treaties, and profited off his infractions. And this is only Logan's second mission. So that night, he dresses as Phillippe, as normal, and meets his love D'Artagnan at their favorite bar, the one where they first met. Serpent D'Eden._

_And when the merry partygoers become agents surrounding them, when Danton put his hands up in fear, when D'Artagnan calls out for Phillippe... Logan has already turned away, melting back into his fold. Where he belongs. Oh, he is still standing right in front of him, still visible. He has just turned back into the circle of agents, facing the heir to the Golden Snake, no longer standing at his side._

_Emotions were inevitable. But unbridled emotion? That's a liability._

* * *

Logan blesses his training, all the long hours learning how not to flinch, or react, or pause in reaction to unexpected changes. Memories of failure threaten to drown him, threaten to let him float away into nostalgia and regret, but he does not let them. He treads water for a moment, getting his bearings, and then pushes back the tide, letting it slide off him as he dries back into Luca Principe.

What with the press of humanity and sound that fills the golden room, Logan half-imagines this must be what it would be like to live inside a bell. Maybe this is the life inside El Duomo's tower. Floating high above the common folk, only surrounded by light and ideals. He notices that Virgil seems to be shrinking in on himself, just a little. He reaches out, and gently touches his exposed shoulder. Virgil jumps, but looks back, and his face splits into a grin as he lights up, the golden glow of the decorations spreading into his face. He reaches and grabs Logan's hand, pulling him close enough to speak into his ear.

"If we get split up, I might never find you again, you're so short," he teases. "I better keep a hold on you all night." The champagne and prosecco of the ride over has clearly affected Virgil just enough, the bubbles loosening his muscles and grins and giving him the boldness to reach out and _take._ Logan finds he doesn't mind all that much. Because of the mission, of course.

Despite the crowds, Roman is impossible to miss. He fits here, extra as he is. No wonder he loves this place. Virgil, towing Logan behind him, follows his twin towards the bar, snaking through the crowd. Logan is just short enough that he can't see the bar easily through the wall of people, only the reflections of colorful bottles and gold taps, interspersed with fresh fruit.

Virgil leans in. "What can I get you to drink?"

Logan grins up at him, answering easily from his character. "Just a spritz, thanks!"

Virgil straightens, reflecting his smile back at him. "How'd you know my favorite drink?"

"...Virgil, we're Italian." F ~~alsehood.~~

"...fair point."

Roman is leaning at the bar, already engaged in conversation, and even though Logan can't see who he's talking to, he can hear snatches of Roman's ringing laugh. Suddenly, the glittery man turns.

"Hey, Jack Smellington, come meet the cutest bartender in Italy - nay, the world!" Virgil rolls his eyes and squeezes up closer, Logan still handfast behind him. Roman turns back to the bar, saying, "This is my twin I've told you so much about - Virgil, meet Dante!"

Logan knows, intellectually, that Dante is a fairly common name in Italy, and the world. But especially finding it here, it's always so entertaining to him, thinking of Alighieri when they're so close to the Vatican.

"Virgil, huh? I better not take directions from you!" A cheery voice in slightly-accented Italian responds. He sounds like he's from the north of the country rather than Sardinia, but in his professional opinion, Logan wouldn't be surprised if he's actually a foreigner.

Virgil cocks his head, and Logan doesn't need to see his expression to know he's making that one face of confusion-disguised-as-skepticism that he makes when he's not sure what you mean but doesn't want to admit it. ~~It means nothing that Logan's memorized his looks and expression. It's just for the mission, nothing more.~~

"Dante, Virgil, I mean- if I follow you, you might lead me to hell!" the bartender continues, still cheery and joking. And Virgil's shoulders bounce in a surprised laugh, and Roman's smile is visible, glowing and proud, and Logan's pleasantly surprised to know he's not the only one making the allusion.

"The only person leading you to hell is gonna be this dumbass," Virgil snarks back, gesturing to his twin. "If he actually had a job description, it would probably be Official Tour Guide of the Primrose Path."

Roman makes a sputtering sound of offense.

"Well that would explain why we're such good _buds,"_ the bartender responds, and Logan groans.

Then he stiffens.

No.

It can't be.

He'd expected the cavalry to arrive quickly, and show up in the larger circles of the twins' acquaintance. That was standard procedure.

But _his handler themself?_

Roman grins and leans over the bar, and Logan is pretty sure there's some form of kiss being exchanged. He suddenly wonders if the entire agency is gay, and he's the last to know.

"Anyway, I know what Roro's drinking, what can I get you, Mr. Peri-twinkle?" the handler-masquerading-as-a-bartender asks, nodding to Virgil's purple hair.

"Two of your finest Aperol spritzes, s'il vous plaît"

"You're in luck, we have those on tap-erol!"

Virgil hands back one bubbly orange drink to Logan, and takes the other himself.

"Ro, I'm gonna go find a table, will you be joining us?"

"Well, that depends - Dante, do you do table service?"

"Not tonight, unfortunately! But..." Logan cranes his neck enough to see curly, dark-brown hair covering a tan face as the bartender whispers something in Roman's ear. Only his finely-developed eavesdropping skill allows him to hear it, but he clearly makes out, "But if you stay past closing, I'd be _delighted_ to service you on that table." Roman smirks and plants a kiss on the man's cheek as Logan flees, flushing lightly.

Logan follows Virgil through the crowd, and there's somehow, miraculously, a free table. But, Logan notes with an internal wry grin, when you're the heirs of the most powerful family in Sardinia... it's not exactly a miracle. He knows not to nod to the unobtrusive man that is walking away from the table, but he recognizes him from the house and knows he's also in the Cavaliere family employ. He and other watchers have been with them all night, of course. And Logan wouldn't be surprised if the Donnas pay to have extra employees who stake out this place on a regular basis for as long as it remains Roman's favorite. Virgil sits and pulls a second chair as close to his as possible, smiling up at Logan. Logan ~~burns~~ is happy to sit, finally. Not having to focus on his quivery legs gives him more energy to think of the best way to connect with the agent who's still flirting busily with Roman even as he darts back and forth, serving other customers with a smile.

Virgil, it seems, is a bit of a lightweight compared to his brother, getting a bit giggly as he sips his drink. He and Logan start narrating the other guests, guessing at their intentions and reasons for being here. Logan has to tone down his ability to do so, but it's not hard to do when Virgil is grinning and interrupting his own jokes to laugh. Logan makes quick work of his drink, and leans into the crook of Virgil's neck to murmur, "I'm going to the bar for another, can I get you one?"

Virgil leans down and kisses his cheek, his own flushed under his foundation. "Yessssss- oh, but also, a water, please?"

"Of course, Virgil."

"You know you can call me Virge, right?"

"Would you prefer it?"

"I don't care what you call me, as long as I get to talk to you," Virgil responds, eyes sparkling with prosecco bubbles. The overly-honest reply sinks into Logan's stomach like the bitter orange on his tongue. _A liability._

"Hey, Luca, can I shorten your name?"

Logan is back in the moment. "What were you thinking?"

"Luc. Or Lu. No, Lulu!"

"...Lulu?"

"Luuuuuluuuuu," Virgil says in a singsong voice, happily flopping his head onto Logan's shoulder. "I luuuuuuuluuuve you."

Logan wishes he'd eaten the ice cubes in his drink, so that he could ascribe the cold in his stomach to that instead. Virgil's just told him he loved him. And now he's faced with a choice. Pretend he heard nothing. and hope Virgil is tipsy enough that he wasn't considering the implications. Or say it back, knowing that Virgil will hear it from Luca instead of Logan. And that when Luca inevitably disappears, the words will vanish with him.

He's always kept a running tally of falsehoods, trying to minimize the lies of commission, sticking to those of omission or character as much as possible. Deliberate misleading feels different, particularly in this line of work, when he _can_ do so much with the other two types alone.  Now, for once, he wishes he was in a position where it _was_ a lie.

Logan's internal fight lasts all of a half-second as he remembers his primary purpose here. Here at this bar, here in Sardinia, here on this earth. He's here for the mission.

"I luluve you too, dork," he says, returning the cheek kiss. Perhaps he can play up his drunkenness for plausible deniability tomorrow. He walks over to the bar, pushing away the small voice that whispers  _liability._

Roman's glittery presence has vacated his stool briefly, but the family agents aren't needed to keep it free. Roman is known here, and the seat may as well have his name pressed into the soft leather. Instead, it just has some of the sequins that have shed off his tank top.

"Salve, Dante, can I get another spritz?" Logan calls, leaning on the golden bar. He's in luck - a popular song has come on, and a bulk of the crowd has migrated to the dancefloor.

"For the friend of the Cavalieres, anything!" Dante says without turning his head fully. He pours another spritz out of the tap, garnishing with a cherry and an orange.

Logan checks that no one's easily in earshot, subtly using the bar's mirror to look behind him as well, and muffles a spot in the bar where he'd choose to hide a bug if he needed to. Then he speaks up, "Sorry, could you say that again? Your volume's too Lo-" Then whispers, "-gan."

The bartender swivels easily to face the bar, setting down the drink with a smile. "Ah yes, I said, I will do anything for the friend of the Cavalieres like yourself. I can provide any service within my power. The house specialty, of course, is personal support." He winks, brown eyes glinting from behind golden wire spectacles. "I'm told I make a great wingman."

Logan takes the rare opportunity to assess the mystery man who's been helping him work and survive these past 7 years. He'd already noted the curly brown hair - he can see it easily could be made denser or looser, to suit the occasion or setting. He looks convincingly Italian... as Italian as Logan himself, in fact. And there's an intelligent glint in his eyes, the careful, almost-imperceptible awareness of his surroundings that everyone in their line of work needs.

"Could I get another spritz for my gentleman friend, and a water?" Logan asks, keeping his tone light. "And I wonder, should I keep the tab open or close it."

"That's the thing about tabs, they do have to stay open until they close or we do!" Dante (or whatever his real name is) responds cheerily. His head tips very, very slightly to his left, where Roman is returning from the bathroom, winding through the dancing crowds.

"Open it is, then. I might take you up on that wingman offer," Logan remarks, perfectly casual. "The man I'm seeing has hair as lovely and black as a crow's wing."

"I noticed," the man sees with a wink. "I, on the other hand, have found myself a peacock."

Logan winks back, and waves to Roman as he slides back onto his stool.

"Luca, you rascal, are you trying to steal my Dante away from me when my back is turned? I am shocked, offended, betrayed!"

"He could never, Roro," Dante interjects, grabbing Roman's dramatically-placed hand from where the Italian has flung it in mock despair. "Not when you sparkle in my eyes like Goldschlager, just as golden as twice as intoxicating."

Roman is either flushed from alcohol or blushing from compliments, but is clearly flattered and very pleased. "Mi dulce, I missed you so much in the few minutes I was away. You're working so hard - you simply must take a break for your own sake."

"Oh, signor, I must ask my manager," Dante responds. Is he...? Yes, he is actually fluttering his eyelashes at Roman, who looks more besotted by the minute. "You wouldn't want me to risk my job, would you?"

"дорогой, hurry and ask, or I shall pine!"

"Well, that _wood_ be terrible," Dante grins, and blows a kiss to Roman as he saunters over to the bar manager near the kitchens.

Logan makes his way back to the table, where Virgil is slightly slumped, watching the dancers with a faint smile. He hands him the water first and places the second spritz a bit away, just in case.

"Hey, you," he says softly. "How are you doing?"

"Hmmmm no you said it wrong," Virgil mumbles. "I watch the yeehaw shit, I know how this goes. It's how YOU doin'?"

"...Virge, I told you, you can't refer to all of America as yeehaw-"

"You can't stop me!"

"I am literally your language tutor."

"More like language torture!" Virgil drawls, then frowns. "No, wait, that's... that's not right. You're too cute to be torture."

 _And yet you're incredibly attractive and I've never been in more pain,_ Logan thinks but doesn't say. He settles for kissing Virgil's cheek once more.

Roman finally comes over to the table at least twenty minutes later. Both seated men immediately notice that some of his glitter appears to have migrated, and his lipstick is entirely missing. Logan suspects he knows _exactly_ where it's gone.

But Roman is glowing and sparkling and Virgil is bubbly and giggly and between the two twins, Logan is convinced to join them on the dancefloor. Virgil is a surprisingly good dancer, though perhaps it's the lack of self-consciousness at this particular moment. Roman and Virgil end up dancing together, twirling each other in turns, both laughing the whole while. Wherever they move, there's space among the dancers, and Logan can tell it's not just fear or intimidation. There's fondness in the partygoers' eyes, an affection that has nothing to do with how attractive the twin Cavaliere heirs are. Roman is a staple, and Virgil is known, and here, even in the gilded hall of Serpente dell'Eden, they seem like real people, not just future Dons.

Logan watches the twins spin, watches glitter get stuck to Virgil's cheeks from Roman's hands, watches Roman deliberately get more glitter stuck on his brother with a devilish grin, and the glitter looks like freckled stars, glinting across Virgil's cheeks like prosecco bubbles come to life.

And Logan... Logan is _burning._

He doesn't realize he's backed off the dancefloor until a voice in his ear says, "Mama always told me my eyes would get stuck like that if I stared too long."

He turns to see Dante smiling, but with a warning in his eyes. "I somehow doubt your mother predicted gay panic," he retorts.

"It's true, she didn't. She was talking about puppies on the street. Or maybe she wasn't. Either way, you look stuck," Dante says blithely, polishing a glass idly.

"...I fear I am. And yet, I fear that I'm not, just as much," he says quietly.

"What a compromising position to be in," the bartender says just as quietly, before a smirk spreads across his face. "Bet you could think of a couple that are more so," he adds, eyebrows waggling.

Logan looks away. "I can only think of one, right now. I think I'm exactly where I need to be, for now, at least. I'm making progress."

Dante (Logan wonders again, what is his real name?) gives him a calculating look, then glances to the dancefloor. "Best of luck to you then, kiddo. Your raven is returning. Don't miss out."

And there's Virgil, grinning, pulling Logan close. "Luuuu, you ran away from me! C'mere, I wanna dance with you."

It's late, almost 2 in the morning, and the crowd has thinned, leaving them more room. But the music switches as Logan takes Virgil's hand. And before he realizes it, Virgil is leading him in a waltz in sweeping circles around the floor. Logan's feet follow, muscle memories he didn't realize he still had from long ago. They spin gently, tracing echoes in Logan's mind of another golden room. But Virgil smiles softly, and the glitter twinkles gently, and Logan is sure it's on his cheeks too, now. They're two men in black, smattered in sparkles, two pieces of star-covered sky in a slow, infinite dance.

Virgil leans in close, and whispers, "Come home with me, Luca. Please."

Logan wants nothing more that to continue burning in Virgil's starlight, wants to melt into him, wants to create constellations of kisses on every part he can reach. But the bar is about to close. He's already scheduled a meeting.

"Virgil, I... _Dio,_ I want to. But you're... you've had so many drinks," he says, pulling back. "I don't want to risk being someone you regret." ~~A lie of omission, yet all too true~~

"I won't regret, Luca, I swear," Virgil insists, cupping Logan's cheek in one hand.

"You can't know that right now," Logan retorts. "I can't tonight, Virgil. Not until I'm positive there's informed, enthusiastic consent." ~~H~~ ~~ow can there ever be, when their relationship is all based a lie?~~

Virgil looks like he wants to object again, but deflates. "No, you're right," he says. "Thank you for being considerate. Can I kiss you at least?"

And absolutely none of Logan's brain is involved when he immediately responds, _"Yes."_

They reach out to each other as one mind and finally, _finally,_ their mouths meet. And it is a supernova, galaxies swirling, stars being born and exploding to their deaths, and it is the soft shine of planets emerging in the sky at dusk, the far-off dusting of the Milky Way, the tiny shiver of a meteor burning a white streak into the atmosphere. And when they finally part, panting, Logan sees the adoration in Virgil's eyes and he _burns._

"Can we at least drive you home, Lu?" Virgil asks, so very gentle.

"I... think I might need the walk," Logan responds with a shaky chuckle. "Clear my head a bit."

Virgil chuckles too, running his knuckles along Logan's jawline. "Sounds good. As long as you'll get home safe."

They both adjust their tops (somehow, somewhere, they got pulled askew) and turn to see... well. ‘Dante’ and Roman are also saying goodnight, it appears.

Logan has learned that the twins, with much of their time idle, have exclusive access to personal trainer and gym. He's, ahem, _noticed_ that Virgil's arms are well-toned. Roman, on the other hand, has been training for a purpose. And that purpose is holding Dante's entire weight, with the smaller man's arms around his neck and legs around his waist, kissing passionately against the just-cleaned bar. Virgil lets them continue for an additional minute, before putting two fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly. Roman's head immediately pops up, pouting.

"Virge! I let you kiss _your_ boyfriend goodbye!"

"And I let _you_. But unless you're going home with him, our car is leaving now."

"You know I can order another," Roman says, rolling his eyes. He's still holding Dante, who rests his curly-haired head on his shoulder, content to be held. "I was planning to - unless?" He looks at Logan, who's already at the door. "Aw, Luc's not joining you?"

Virgil blushes, his foundation defeated at last. "Not tonight."

Logan is staring at Virgil, thinking, _Boyfriend?_

But... now isn't the time to ask. He'd be rather a hypocrite if he was willing to have that conversation when he'd just stressed the important of sober consent. Instead, he smiles at Virgil and kisses him on the cheek, then pushes his way out of the bar.

* * *

He walks down the dark street until he finds the meeting location he'd agreed on. Il Corvo, a dark, wood-paneled bar, one with just a dark-clad bartender and one patron who appears to be passed out. He settles down on a stool, orders a whiskey, neat, and waits. The official close time of Serpente dell'Eden is 2:30am. At 2:31 exactly, the door opens and Dante settles on the stool closest to the door. "Hey, Ezio, how was the night?" he greets the bartender.

Il Corvo's bartender shrugs and mutters, "Can't complain. Water?"

"Please."

They commiserate over bartender hours and small tribulations for a couple minutes as Dante drinks his water. He drops a couple bills as a tip and stretches, then exits the bar. Logan slowly finishes his drink to allow time to pass, pays, and leaves as well. He turns the corner immediately, and sees Dante standing near a street light, paused as if looking at the street signs. He continues, and Logan follows, a careful distance behind, until they arrive at one of the many harbors, where the only light is the moon.

"So," Logan says, voice only just loud enough to reach Dante's ears.

"So," he responds, just as quiet. "Security: Sierra Delta Romeo. Nine Eight Nine."

"Security: Alpha November Echo. Four Two Four."

"...Logan. It's good to finally meet you."

"I never thought we would," Logan responds. "And yet, from your instructions, I feel I know you, at least a little. Is it too risky to ask your non-cover name?"

'Dante' hesitates so hard, Logan can _feel_ it. The other man finally speaks, but deliberates on every word. It’s a sharp contrast to the bubbly bartender, but then, they’re both working more purely now than they have been in months.

“I suppose I could share that. After all, we’re at quite an imbalance in terms of knowledge. You don’t know anything other than how I send messages, and the cover you’ve seen so far. And me, well,” he chuckles humorlessly. “I know practically everything about you. I wouldn’t be able to do my job so well without that.”

“You make it sound so dire. Do you trust me so little not to burn your identity?” Logan asks. He’s not sure what his current stock is at HQ- he may have been branded a flight risk or put on burn notice warning, and he’d be none the wiser.

“Well, we all have to be cautious, don’t we?” the curly-haired man asks. His glasses glint in the moonlight. “In this business, we can’t trust anyone that much. We have to be willing to give up attachments. That’s part of what’s always made you the best we have.” He takes a deep breath. “But you deserve to know, after all these years. My real name... is Patton.”

And Logan’s world turns upside down.

“...Patton? Patton _Corwan?”_

A nod. Logan has had so many names he’s lost count. He’s had hundreds at least of passports. But the one he was born with was Logan Corwan.

“Oh my god. _Pat."_ Logan stares at his younger brother, made unrecognizable by over twelve years of separation. "How the fuck did you end up in this business?”

“I was recruited. Turns out being able to read people’s emotions well and giving them what they want is desirable skill,” Patton tells him, trying to watch Logan's facial expressions in the scant moonlight. “Almost as good as knowing exactly what people need, and don’t realize they should want. Plus, you may have heard, we have _those_ faces, the kind that can blend in anywhere. Even here.”

“...And you never said? Not even a hint?”

“I was forbidden from hinting. I had a great plan on how to do it too. It was going to be so many puns, Lolo, you would have loved it. And acted like you hated it, of course. But after... Paris, when you went a bit erratic, they decided they needed a case agent who knew you perfectly. Not like that old man. And they were sure if you knew it was me, you’d resist orders, or take unnecessary risks. Plus, keeping you out in the field without needing to come in except for the occasional covert debrief was a benefit.”

“The debriefings were never fun before the new team. I’m assuming the doctor joined with you?”

“Of course. They were actually the one who recruited me. They’re the best we have for psychological case management.”

“So who’s the third? The tech and logistics guy? I know how the agency operates.”

“Oh, you’d love him. Or hate her. Honestly it could go either way, but were he single, I guarantee you would try to sleep with her.”

“...wow, really feeling the brotherly love welling up inside me.”

“It’s okay, you’re safe from his flirtations. She’s dating Picani. I introduced the two of them,” Patton boasts proudly.

“That is _definitely_ against protocol. Did they assemble the fucking Gay-Team or did it happen accidentally?”

“Well, you see- we are collectively _the_ best spy operation in the world, Lo. It’s in the higher-ups’ interest to keep us happy. All of us. Which is why they let me answer the cavalry call.”

Logan chews on this. Of course he wouldn’t know his own reputation. He would need to be aware of other spies for that. And it’s true that in the aftermath of Paris, he’d been... less predictable. There was a time he thought he’d never be able to recover from his ~~failure~~ decision in regards to D’Artagnan. And so when he wasn’t on a mission, or when he had nights off... he’d indulged. In men, in women, in humanity. As long as they weren’t involved in his work. And he’d gone from collaborative agent with innovative ideas of missions to an automaton. An amazing, flawless spy, but a shell of one.

So the agency had clearly decided to make itself feel distant. They’d found a team that could make that happen. How better to get more distant than by getting closer than Logan would have thought possible? Picking the person who had the best prior knowledge of Logan’s mind, if a bit outdated. Someone who could ensure messages would be shared effectively, with delivery tailored to Logan’s mind and skills. Someone who would be able to decipher Logan’s terse reports. And if that means exploiting family ties? Well. They were _spies,_ after all.

The silence stretches, and Logan feels Patton shifting in his seat besides him.

“So, now you know,” Patton says softly. “And now I’m here, to help complete this mission in whatever way necessary.”

“With orders, I assume.”

“Yes - that I follow your lead up until the point I am positive you’re compromised.”

“Well, you’ve had two weeks with Roman, and a whole evening to watch Virgil and me,” Logan remarks. He pulls a small packet out of his pocket, and starts cleaning off his club makeup, eyes closed. “I’m sure you’ve made a judgment on both that and the entire the mission by this point.”

“Yes, I have,” Patton says softly.

“And?”

“...I don’t think you’re compromised, Lolo. I think you’re in love.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Only if it means the mission will fail,” Patton says firmly. “Only if it means that your personal priorities and the mission priorities are mutually exclusive.”

“And if you’re correct, and I’m… feeling that way, how is that compatible with the mission objective?”

“Well, Mr. Smarty-pants, what _was_ the mission?”

“Come to Sardinia. Infiltrate the Cavaliere compound. Gain intel on the twins. Assess their likelihood of ascension, and the possibility of turning, compromising, or otherwise controlling them. And the unwritten instruction: if they’re irredeemable, get them taken into custody, or take them out personally.”

"So," Patton says, counting off on his fingers. "Sardinia, check. Infiltrate, check. Intel," He glances over at his brother, his 'asset'. "I think that's a pretty big check at this point, too. Even if the dossier doesn't technically need to know what Virgil's lips feel like."

"Very soft," Logan mumbles, then coughs.

Patton kindly ignores his comment and continues. "And have you assessed ascension?"

"Yes. At least one will, likely both. Thus far, Virgil is more reluctant, but refuses to let his brother go it alone."

"Can't imagine what that's like," Patton says wryly. He hesitates, then loops his arm around Logan's shoulders. Logan freezes for a moment, then leans in, reciprocating the gesture.

"If they do in fact succeed as planned... I would need to evaluate Roman more to be sure on what methods would be most appropriate. Virgil is an ideal candidate for turning - he wants to get out of the family business. With that as leverage, it would be simple to get names, dates, operations, _et cetera._ But he won't leave without Roman, and wouldn't dare leave him high and dry. So if similar leverage wouldn't work on him, multiple methods would be needed, and coordination, too, to minimize suspicion."

"Ah, brother dear," Patton says with a smile, "You forget, I've been evaluating Roman for the better part of two weeks. It's been... well, it's been the easiest mission I've ever had. And certainly the most enjoyable. Roman gets very honest when he's been drinking, moreso when he's tired, moreso when he's just waking up."

"...Pat, I know you're an agent in your own right, but even after all this time you're still my baby brother and I _really_ don't want to hear about your grand seduction of a Cavaliere twin."

Patton shrugs good-naturedly. "Okay. I've only had to read all the case files on your _many_ seductions, but okay."

Logan elbows him. "Hey! That wasn't my fault! I didn't know you were my handler!"

"Clearly, one of us is the _hand_ ler, and I don't know that it's me-"

Logan tackles his brother off the bench. The two spies, the Corwan brothers who’re forbidden from using the name, two partner agents in the field lay on the wood of the dock at one of the many harbors of Sardinia, both giggling. It's well past 3am now, but neither could sleep right now even if they wanted to.

Eventually, Logan's blush and giggles subside, and, still laying on the ground by his brother, he asks, "So, you've evaluated Roman. What's your assessment?"

"That the twins are more similar than they'd ever admit," Patton responds promptly. "Roman also doesn't want to take over, but thinks Virgil will, and doesn't want to leave him alone."

Logan sits up, sounding a low whistle. "So... we can actually do this. We can help them both, and it'll be helping the mission, too. Not to mention both of us."

Pat grins. "Well, helping you, certainly. Once he's not a Don-in-training, you can finally continue where you and Virgil left off earlier today."

Logan rolls his eyes. "Don't pretend it's not helping you, too. My peripheral vision is excellent, I saw those doe-eyes you were sending at Roman when you thought I was distracted. Plus, you were punning for him."

"I pun for a lot of people!"

"Do you? Since you turned it into your method of communication with your asset, do you really?"

"...No."

Logan looked over at his brother. He's aged so much in the last twelve years - no wonder he didn't recognize him. But now he sees nervous tic of tugging on the curl in his forehead, and the familiar crinkle around his eyes, and the dimples that only emerge when he's smiling that fond, secret smile... God, Logan missed him. He always thought they were polar opposites, that Patton liked him as little as the rest of the family seemed to. And here they are, on an island thousands of miles away from their hometown, reunited in person, sharing an occupation, and in love with a pair of beautiful Italian twins.

"Okay, so, you're not compromised and we have a chance at success: what do we do now?" Patton asks, admiring the reflection of the moon on the sea.

"Well, first things first, we need to find a better way to communicate. If we just talk at the bar, Roman might start think I'm hitting on you. That would be rather an awkward conversation for this early."

"Point taken. Phones instead, standard method?"

"That is satisfactory. Second, we might need to actually get the twins to talk, and realize they're both feeling the same way about the family business."

"You and I are going to get siblings to communicate? How's that for irony."

"Quite."

"And then?"

"And then we make the offer."

* * *

Logan only tutors every other day, but he's not sure he's going to be able to wait a whole 24 hours to see Virgil again. Especially now that there's hope.

But he forces himself to act as a normal Sardian on a day off. He browses through the market, buys fresh fish, and bikes around the island. He does not linger outside the compound gates, hoping for just a glance. He does not lurk like a puppy waiting for its master to leave a store.

He does go to the Serpente dell'Eden, though. He expects to spend at least a few more nights here, and he needs to make sure that memories won't interfere. Plus, now that he's been introduced, it can't hurt for the Cavaliere plants to see him here without either twin when 'Dante' isn't working. And, well. The more he notes the little differences here, the more he can remind himself that the past is not necessarily prologue. History does not have to repeat itself, if he can be smart about it. Virgil isn't Danton. Things can go well, perhaps.

 _Don't get your hopes up,_ the back of his mind whispers. **_Liar._ **

_Haven't you shown your true colors already, Phillippe? It might have been my moniker, but you're the real snake here, mon amour._ The coils of memory slide around him, squeezing his ribs and pushing out a single tear. _Oh, sorry, it's not Phillippe anymore. Now it's 'Luca'._

He brushes at the tear angrily. He's changed now. It's different. He's grown, and there's a better way this time. There's a way out of the lies.

 _But what if Virgil hates you for the lies, Lu?_ Memory croons. _What if the whole plan goes to ruin when you confess? You'll get burned, dear "Lulu." You'll never work as a spy again. You'll fail with nothing to show for it._

"He'll understand," Logan whispers to himself. "He has to."

He realizes he's responded aloud and quickly looks around, but there's perhaps two other patrons and a sleepy-looking bartender and none are close enough to have heard.

Roman isn’t at the bar that night, so Logan leaves as the crowds get dense. Tomorrow is going to be a bit of a day.

When Logan enters the study at his normal hour, Virgil is already there, sprawled in his chair with the look of someone who’s been there for quite a while. But the minute he sees Logan, his eyes go wide and he sits straight up.

“Lu! I mean, Luca! I wanted to apologize, for the other night- I should have watched my drinking more, and remembered that you’re technically still an employee, and I really, really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with anything I said or uh, did,” he bursts out, all in one breath. Logan is quite sure he’s been rehearsing it in his head.

“I don’t believe any apology is necessary, unless you said or did anything you regret,” Logan replies. He’s fairly certain his read of the other man is correct, but there’s no sense in avoiding communication when there’s very little risk. “I hope I was respectful enough of our mutual levels of intoxication that that’s not the case?”

“I don’t regret _anything_ _,”_ Virgil breathes out. “I mean, I enjoyed it all. I can’t say I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t do sober, but that’s only because…” he reddens as he trails off.

Logan slides into the seat next to him, instead of his normal across-the-table. “Because what?”

“I was going to say ‘because I’m a gay disaster’ but that seems kinda a bad choice when I’m trying to get you to like me?”

“Virge, you don’t know the _half_ of it,” Logan chuckles. "As far as gay disasters go, I'm basically a second Pompeii."

"So, we're good?" Virgil asks. He shifts a bit in his seat, but doesn't move closer quite yet.

"I do believe we are," Logan says with a smile. The matching smile spreading across Virgil's face makes him want to run a marathon, or swim across the sea, or rocket straight into space. He is _burning,_ and for the first time in years, he isn't scared.

“...I don't think I ever asked, can I call you Lu?"

"Of course." F ~~alsehoods.~~  

"And I seem to remember also calling you Lulu after my third or fourth spritz, I'm gonna assume that one's less okay."

"You can call me whatever you like," Logan says, smiling up at the now-blushing Italian. ~~Does it count, if he balances a lie of omission against painful frankness?~~

Virgil's smile spreads into his blush, and he hesitantly asks, "I know you're meant to be tutoring me right now but... Lu, can I kiss you? Sober, this time?"

Every particle of Logan's body is tingling in anticipation of burning as he whispers, "Please."

It's different, this time. Less inhibited, less desperate, but where the other night Logan had catapulted into space with the club-going son of the Cavaliere family, now he is slowly spinning somewhere below the canopy of the sky and kissing _Virgil._

A slight sound in the hallway jars them apart, and Logan scoots his chair away in one movement, trying desperately to cool the heat in his cheeks and marshal his thoughts back into some semblance of order. Kissing has never affected him quite so easily, but then, he's never met Virgil before.

He expects Roman to come bursting in as he so often does, particularly because it's about the time that the other twin actually starts moving in the just-barely-morning. So when the tapping of heels turn out to not be attached to Roman's boots, but to the flashy pumps of an incredibly polished-looking woman, Logan is even more caught off-guard.

Virgil is immediately on his feet. "Mamma, good morning!"

"Cucciolo," shes says warmly, coming forward to embrace him, kissing both cheeks. "I'm sorry to interrupt. Pardon me, messere, have we met?"

"Mamma, this is Luca Principe, my language tutor and good friend," Virgil says. He pauses, but shakes his head slightly. "Luca, this is my mother, Gianna Cavaliere."

"Language tutor? Ah, enchante," Gianna replies grandly. She elegantly offers a hand, and Logan bows smoothly to kiss her fingers. He wasn't given much an an orientation when he was hired, but this was most certainly covered. If you work for the twins, you work for the family. That means the _whole_ family. And here he is, kissing the hand of one of the two Donnas of the largest family-based crime organization in the world.

She nods in approval, then turns to her son. "Virgil, remember that we're gathering tomorrow night. I want you and Roman there this time, prepared to speak if necessary."

"Yes, madonna, I remember," Virgil says. His face is smooth, his voice strong. She smiles, her face warming. "Tua madre and I are looking forward to it. We are so proud of you," she says earnestly, and kisses him on the cheeks again, then on top of his head. She can only just reach, thanks to her four-inch heels. "Until tomorrow, then."

She nods to Logan, then departs as abruptly as she arrived, the red leather on the bottom of her heels flashing as she goes. As she leaves, Logan closes the door behind her, then turns. Virgil is slumped forward in his seat, head in hands.

"Virge, are you alright? She seems, well, intimidating, but nice?"

"If you think _she's_ intimidating, just wait until you meet her wife," he says through his hands. "Fuck, Lu, what am I gonna do?"

"About what?"

"The meeting. _Fuck,_ why does it have to be tomorrow. I know we're 'of age' now or whatever but..."

"Virgil, I dearly wish to help your current dilemma, but it would be much easier to do so if you elaborated just a bit?"

Virgil raises his head. "Is it being a language tutor that makes you talk so formal all the time? Even when I am having a crisis?"

"...'so formal _ly_ '," Logan corrects with a smirk. "And yes."

"Va te faire foutre."

"See, and I'm clearly doing an excellent job. Look at all these languages you can insult me in."

Logan sits down back next to Virgil, and gently puts and hand on his shoulder. "I mean it, though. I do want to help, if I can. What's going on at the meeting?"

"Mamma and Mother aren't fully passing over the reigns but... they're officially introducing us to the family. As the heirs. As the future Dons."

Logan blanches internally. _Fuck, I thought we'd have more time!_

Outwardly, he remains calm. "And you're nervous?"

"I mean, it's like I said before. I don't think this is what I want to do with the rest of my life, but if I don't, it's all on Ro. And I can't let that happen, either."

"...do you know how Roman feels about it?"

"Of course he wants to go through with it, he loves getting to feel important, and the family already loves him. He's a natural leader. He's gonna be great."

Logan avoids pursing his lips or raising an eyebrow. For all Virgil knows, he has no information to the contrary. "So why not let him, if you don't want to?"

"It's too dangerous, Lu. He runs in without a plan constantly, trusting on his charm and instincts to get him through. He'll get himself killed if I'm not there."

Logan takes a deep breath and a risk. "My brother used to think the same thing about me, you know."

"I don't believe that for one second - wait. You have a brother?"

"I do. He moved, though, and we fell out of touch over the years. It's been only recently that we reconnected. It's why he hasn't come up before."

"I have trouble picturing you as a reckless anything," Virgil says with a wry grin.

"I, uh. Have a tendency to jump to conclusions," Logan admits. "I thought he didn't care about me, because we were so different. He was the young, friendly, happy one. But when I went off and did what I wanted without a second look back, I found out he took some pretty big risks to help me. Ones that I would never have agreed to, if I'd known sooner. Now that we've actually talked for the first time in years... I see a lot of decisions I made in a new light."

Logan swallows a lump in his throat, and Virgil reaches out and tentatively cups his cheek in one hand. "I'm sorry, that sounds hard."

"It was, and is. But I would never have known if we hadn't finally talked, if we hadn't agreed to say the quiet assumptions out loud. I see a lot of me and him in you and Roman, even if you're so much closer than we ever were. Maybe you should ask him, point-blank. If you're gonna be co-leaders, you're going to have to start talking about all the little stuff sooner or later, right?"

Virgil nods. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just scared he'll think I'm a coward, or shirking the family honor."

Logan smirks, just a little. "He loves you, Virge, even I can see that. I'm sure he'll understand. Plus, if he does go on about the latter, I can send you my favorite Prince Zuko clips to mock him with."

Virgil snorts. "Oh my god, you dork, I love you." Then he freezes. "I mean- oh _fuck me,_ I was gonna say it better this time, not drunk and loopy, but..."

"I love you, too," Logan says quietly. Virgil's hand is still on his cheek, and he brings up his hand to mirror the gesture. There's a beat, and quiet moment, and then their eyes flutter shut and they're kissing once more, soft and gentle.

There's an urgency now, neither able to entirely forget the upcoming decision. And Logan's blood is laced through with ice and fire in equal measure, tiny shards of all the ways this could go wrong in such a short time. He acknowledges them, nods in recognition, but blazes through and melts a path. He will see this through. He will fix it. With Patton's help, they can all make this work.

Virgil breaks off at length, eyes opening slowly. "Luca, do you remember that conversation we were having the other night?"

Logan's head is still spinning with meteors. "Which one was that?"

"It mentioned regret, and the lack thereof. It also mentioned sober and enthusiastic consent." The embers in Logan's veins become a wildfire, and his face lights. Virgil grins in response."I believe I'm currently sober, and _very_ enthusiastic. Also, it may be helpful to mention that my bedroom is both 20 feet away and soundproof."

And Logan is on his feet with Virgil in a moment, and they're moving together, never fully breaking contact, and Logan is giddy with excitement, so very willing to burn together. Until he remembers that the person Virgil is so enthusiastic for is Luca Principe, even as Logan Corwan loves him desperately. If he delays again, though, Virgil will rightfully ask why, will wonder why. And... he's done this so many times before, for so many missions, when it meant nothing.

Now, it means everything. So he makes a pact with himself. He won't act, won't dissemble, won't play his cover in any way, not for this. He'll make sure this is something that, if everything works out as he hopes, they can both look back on without regret. Even if the name is just... a little off. He follows Virgil to his bedroom, and for those next hours, it is truly Logan and not Luca who burns.

* * *

They both end up dozing, after, in Virgil's enormous bed. There's enough room for five people to fit easily, and yet they wake still tangled up in each other. Logan sees Virgil sit up, with hair pointing in every direction, and can't help laughing. Virgil hits him with a plush pillow in retaliation, and pillow talk becomes a pillow fight, both grown men giggling.

Finally, gasping for air from laughter, Virgil glances at the clock and stretches with a regretful grin. "If I'm gonna talk to the _other_ gay disaster in this house before he goes out for the night, I better do it now."

Logan wants to keep him here, in this cloud of softness where lies and deception don't exist, but knows that's impossible. He nods, and gets dressed.

"Uh, yeah, you're gonna need to borrow a shirt," Virgil remarks. Logan looks down to see his polo has been horribly creased. Virgil finds him a black tee with some abstract drawing of the brain and tosses it at his bare chest. "Hey, uh, if Roman wants to go out tonight, you wanna come again?"

"I'd love to," Logan says. "I still don't have any clubbing clothes, though."

"I may have, um. Bought you some. We have too much money anyway."

Logan looks at Virgil sidelong. "You... just bought me clubbing clothes?"

"I mean, they don't just have to be that, I just had our wardrobe person guess at your size and got some things I hope you like?"

"Well, your taste is excellent, so I'm sure I will. I'll come back then, to get ready here?"

"Yeah, sounds good. Around 21:00 work?"

Logan smiles. "Yes, that sounds great. I'll see you then, mio amore."

Virgil blushes, and pulls Logan in for a lingering kiss. "I can't wait."

Logan floats down the hallways and out of the enormous compound, practically until his doorstep. Then he opens the door and immediately grabs his phone.

He's still not as used to sending messages _back_ to his ~~handler~~ ~~brother~~ ~~friend?~~ partner spy, but he knows the principle. Hopefully he can make it work, and casually enough that it won't draw suspicion even if someone sees.

 

 

 

Have you checked the calendar recently? Seems like ♊ is rising sooner than we thought   
  
Ah, no wonder I don't feel so bull-headed anymore! ♉ Guess we better double up on our evening plans.   
  
That is, unless you're somehow still a ♍ 😜

Logan groans aloud. His brother will apparently never get tired of teasing him. This is his life now. 

 

 

 

no comment.  
  
👀👏👉👌🍆👀😜  
...vaffanculo  
Roman's got that handled already!

Logan walks over to the wall and slowly beats his head against it. At least their cover is strong.

 

 

 

I hate you so much.  
  
see you later

* * *

He spends the next couple of hours drawing up plans in cipher, particularly in regards to the asks he'll have to make of HQ to pull all of this off. He's fairly confident they will, but it never hurts to have one's things in order. If some of the plans are less mission-focused and contain more sketches of certain tattoos he's only recently become witness to, well, that is no one's business but his.

At last, it's 19:30, and he can return to the Cavaliere manor. He's a bit nervous, entering - he's not sure how the twins' conversation has gone. He's hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst.

Walking down one of the many very long hallways, he turns to see the same intimidating woman from before - Gianna. And she is walking with another woman, her arm looped around the shorter woman's waist. They're both in elegant sheaths, Gianna's bright red, the other's a classic black. They drip with gold and silver bracelets as they walk to a door and vanish outside, to the garage. Logan takes a deep breath. That must be Catarina, the other head of the family, the twins' other mom. Virgil's warning wasn't enough to prepare him for just how strong her presence is - he could see it from a hallway away. The set of her head, the confidence of her gait, the way her body was perfectly balanced as if prepared for an attack at any time.

He knocks carefully on Virgil's bedroom door. It opens, to reveal Roman, grinning evilly. "Hellooooo, Luca. Or should I start calling you frère? I hope you know I expect you to make an honest man out of Virgil..."

He's interrupted by a pillow to the head as Virgil comes to greet Logan.

"Tais-toi, dumbass," he scowls at his brother, before turning to Logan. A smile brightens his face as he greets the shorter man with a kiss. "Hey, you." ~~Logan can't help but be happier everytime Virgil looks at him like that without using his fake name.~~

"Cariño," Logan responds softly. "Hi."

Roman interrupts their moment, huffing. "You're lucky I haven't done my hair yet, Virgil, I would've had to kill you."

"You wouldn't, you love me," Virgil responds, sticking his tongue out as his brother.

"Love shows itself in many ways," Roman responds darkly. He brightens suddenly. "Wait, I know how you can make it up to me!"

"I'm not making anything up to-"

"Let me do Luca's makeup!"

"Please, no," Logan says faintly.

"Fuck no," Virgil says at the same time.

"Just a litttleeee, I'll be gentle..."

"Don't you dare-" his brother tries to interject.

"Unlike Virgil!" Roman trills, winking with an unholy glee.

"Virgil, sweet, would you mind too terribly if I were to lock your brother in the closet for, say, the rest of his life?"

"Not at all, dear, please feel free. In fact, I'll help you."

"You can't put me in the closet! This is homophobia!"

"Roman, it's a walk-in closet filled with heeled boots, there's nothing straight about it."

Roman makes a series of unintelligible noises of offense before twirling on his heel and striding across the hall to his own room, the sounds of Virgil and Logan's laughter trailing behind him until the door clicks shut.

The minute they're alone, Virgil wraps Logan in his arms. "God, you're so handsome. And so smart."

Logan flushes. "Thank you, Virge. I... Dio, I adore you."

"You were right, by the way. I'm so relieved - I talked to Roman, and he also is really nervous and unsure about this whole ascension thing. We don't quite have a plan, but-"

"Shh," Logan stills him. "Let's just get ready for tonight, okay?" He leans close to whisper directly in his ear, so soft it's barely more than a breath. "Here probably isn't the place to discuss it."

Virgil stares for a moment, then nods. "You're right, L. You wanna see what I bought you?"

Virgil flicks the light on in his (enormous) closet and pulls Logan over to a corner where the clothes had been hung a little separately. "I don't know how adventurous you get, so fair warning, some of this is stuff that I will definitely wear if you don't like it." He pulls out a pair of imitation leather pants first, matte black with shinier panels across the thighs. "Here, these might be a bit tight, but I think they're your size."

Logan runs a hand over the material. It's incredibly soft, the kind that only real money could buy, so high-quality it might as well be the real thing. Without the animal cruelty, of course. He slides off his jeans and catches Virgil staring.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, please, continue," Virgil says with a smirk. "I'll just watch. And admire."

"Oh, good, because these are way too tight to wear with anything under them," Logan remarks airily, removing his boxers, and watches with delight as Virgil's face goes red.

Logan slides himself into the fake leather, and it feels _divine._ Or, perhaps that's the wrong direction. He steps to the side, checking the stretch, and smirks as he watches Virgil's eyes follow his hips. Ah, yes. Sinful is definitely more appropriate. Lust, specifically, it seems.

Virgil clears his throat. "Yup, so those are grood. I mean, gay. _I mean,_ they look nice. Here, try this with them." He tosses him another piece of clothing, still red-faced.

It's a tank, mostly a smooth, dark-blue fabric, but the top third and straps are black mesh. Logan shrugs and swaps his tee for it, and checks the effect in the mirror. The mesh doesn't go too low, only going down to just below his collarbone, but it fits perfectly.

"Hmm, I like it," he comments.

 _"Same,"_ Virgil says from the corner, almost reverently. 

"Hm, what else do you have," Logan asks, walking over to rifle through the rack. Virgil is still staring unabashedly. He finds lots of dark blue, deep purples, and blacks. Yup, Virgil has clocked his style pretty well. Then he finds a piece that raises his eyebrows. "What's this?"

"Oh, um, that's what I mean, I don't expect you'd like it, but just in case, and I can just take it..." Virgil babbles.

Logan holds the skirt up against his outfit. "Hm. Flattering cut. I like it. Not for tonight, though."

"...you like it?"

"They're practical in their own way. Particularly when it's warm."

Virgil takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm gonna need to see that. Very soon."

"What about you?"

"...I was already planning on wearing one tonight."

Logan raises an eyebrow, and Virgil goes to his side of the closet. A few items have been left off to the side - a cropped purple tank in a galaxy print, artfully torn leggings, and a pleated black skirt. Virgil changes into them, and now it's Logan's turn to watch with undivided attention. Dios mío, this man is going to be the death of him. Despite how wide the bathroom mirror is, Virgil and Logan slide as close together as possible to put on makeup. Logan once again wings his eyeliner, but this time adds just a touch of blue shadow. Virgil's is more dramatic, with a dark plum lip. Logan keeps sneaking glances as how deftly Virgil switches from brush to applicator, adding tiny touches to create a smooth work of art.

"Are you staring?"

"Yeah, I am," Logan says softly, smiling. "You're gorgeous, Virgil. No matter what you're wearing."

"...fuck, you can't just _say_ things like that, I'm going to want to let Roman go on alone and keep you here all night."

"Oh, no. Whatever shall I do," Logan deadpans.

Roman, of course, chooses that moment to burst in, trilling, "Aaaalllllllloooooooonnnnnsssss-yyyyyyyy!" He pauses in the bathroom door, grinning. "Wow, you two managed to even have pants on! Relatively speaking, of course," he says with a gesture to Virgil's skirt.

He's a mess of glitter and sequins once more, but this time he's gone silver and burgundy instead of gold and red. His tank is black with silver and burgundy flowers edged in sparkles, and his dark red skintight pants have silver accents along the side. Logan places a hand on Virgil's exposed lower back, feeling a shiver of attraction run along his spine. "звезда моя, are you ready?"

"Luc, that's _gay,"_ Roman drawls. "Come on, let's get going! Dante's waiting for me."

"Hey Roman?" Virgil says, straightfaced.

"Yeah?"

 _"That_ is gay."

"Congratulations, we have established that we are all, in fact, queer," Logan says, rolling his eyes at the brothers. "Shall we?"

They're brought back to Serpente dell'Eden in what is _definitely_ the next year's not-yet-released model Lamborghini. Because _of course_ this family has access to that. ~~How will Logan possibly be able to provide for Virgil if this is what he's used to?~~  But soon enough they're back in the golden bubble of the bar, chattering Italian voices surrounding them as the planted Cavaliere agents watch inconspicuously.

Roman practically soars to the bar, the crowd parting easily to let him pass. "Dante! Honningblomst! I return!"

And there's Pat- well, Dante, in his elegant bartender's jacket, grinning for all he's worth. "Oh Roman, we both know _you're_ the sweet one," he giggles. "What can I get you, γλυκέ μου? A Bee's Knees to match your perfect smile? A Gold Rush for my treasure?"

Roman practically drapes himself over the bar to get close enough to kiss the bartender's cheek. "Oh, mi corazón, I will take whatever you want to give me."

"I _bet_ you would," Virgil snarks from behind his brother.

"ExcUSE you!" Roman gasps.

"Oh, _you_ can make insinuations all day, and I can't make one little crack?"

"That's different," Roman says with a sniff. _"I'm_ classy."

Patton notices Virgil and Logan and gives them both a once-over, grinning. "And for the happy couple? What would you like? Perhaps a-"

"Two spritzes, thanks," Logan interrupts hurriedly, before Patton can finish whatever certainly-teasing suggestions he was about to make.

Logan and Virgil grab their drinks and retreat to a table, leaving Roman and Patton behind to joke about the two of them and quickly get distracted by flirting with each other. Safely surrounded by the hubbub of noise, and within enough supervision to avoid suspicion, Logans kisses Virgil's cheek and whispers, "So what did you and Roman talk about?"

"He doesn't want to either, 亲. He's only ever been willing because he was scared of disappointing our moms, or of leaving me alone. But if neither of us want to, then they can just pick another family member to be the heir, and we can be free."

"Would you be able to fully disengage? Even if you're not the Dons, would they let you just leave the family?" Logan caresses Virgil's cheek, smiling, keeping up the appearance that all they're discussing are sweet nothings.

"Well, no, not entirely. But free-er, I guess. Able to come and go with fewer babysitters. No big decisions to make. Only ever called in for all-hands-on-deck-type emergencies, and those are rare. I think there's been one in our lifetime."

"...do I want to know what that involved?"

"Depends, do you want to be able to say no if someone asks you about unsolved crimes on Sardinia?" Virgil says, a bitter twist to his mouth.

Logan raises an eyebrow, and kisses him, whispering, "Careful, love. There are eyes on us."

* * *

Behind the bar, nothing stays still for long. With three bartenders just at this one bar, Patton is constantly flitting back and forth, keeping orders straight and being genial and charming to all the guests. But that's the simple part. That's what he does, easy as breathing. The tricky bit is where he manages to keep 5 drink orders active in his head, running through recipes to create them correctly while he smiles and chats with patrons, manages to focus on Roman without it being obvious that he's focusing on Roman, and at the same time gives nothing away that he shouldn't yet know.

A slight break emerges in the flow of people, and he slides down to Roman's spot at the bar. The tall man looks... well. He always looks _good,_ that's a given. Tonight he looks _delectable_ and it is enough to make Patton want to neglect the mission, his cover job, and everyone else in the room. Instead, he smiles, leaning as close as he can. "Where were we?" he asks, letting the words roll off his tongue like each one is a delicious piece of candy.

Roman leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. "I believe you were telling me how wonderful I am."

"...was I?"

"To be honest, I forget," Roman admits. "But I do love it when you do."

"And there's just so much to talk about!" Patton says as Roman grins. "Your smile, for one. And the way you run your hands through your hair. And how you dance..."

"Oh, stop, Dante, it's just too much, I may faint," Roman says, leaning over the bar dramatically, fanning himself. He pauses and looks up at the bartender, practically upside-down. "But do keep going, won't you?"

Patton kisses his forehead. "For you, حبيب, the sun and stars."

Roman actually pauses at that, and stares up at Patton. "I... have I mentioned, recently, that you are the most amazing man I know, dearest?"

"I thought we were praising _you_ right now."

"We were, until you were too sweet that I became distracted." Roman sits back up normally, and reaches out to brush Patton's cheek with his hand. "Mon Dieu, Dante, you're like no one I've ever met. And I am constantly bowled over by you."

Patton leans into the touch. The name bothers him, a little, but he's never fallen in love on a mission before. He's never been burned, not by his job. "Oh, Roman, how can you say that when you're so brilliant? I'm just a bartender with a knack for languages, when all's said and done."

"No, my dear," Roman says, eyes burning with earnestness. "You are so much more. You are a falcon, pretending to be a sparrow. You can soar to such high heights, were you to allow yourself to fly free. You are a treasure. Min skatt."

Patton has been trained well, too. He does not stiffen. He does not stare. He does not appear to react in any way other than blushes and a soft kiss to Roman's hand. But internally, he wonders if he's misjudged the elder twin, when he's apparently picked up so well on the fact that Patton is so much more than he pretends to be.

"I think my break is coming up soon," he says with a wink. "Want to continue this in a more comfortable location?"

Roman's pupils dilate and he kisses Patton directly on the lips. "Just say when and where, love."

The when is, apparently, only two minutes later. And the where is a small back room not in use today, one that's maintained specifically for privacy for high-profile guests. Patton learned through innocent questions and industrious eavesdropping that not even the Cavaliere footpads are allowed to get in, only managers. Luckily, he'd acquired a manager's key within two days of this job for just this purpose.

Or perhaps not the _current_ purpose. At this particular moment, Patton and Roman are using the privacy to kiss, messily and desperately, hands roaming each other's bodies. Patton's uniform jacket has been placed carefully off to the side along with his glasses.

Roman makes a soft sound into Patton's mouth, sending a shiver down his spine. "God, you're amazing," Roman breathes.

"You're the a _maz_ ing one, Roro," Patton says with a giggle. "Why else do I keep getting lost in your eyes?"

"If you're lost, I must be entirely adrift," Roman murmurs. He cups Patton's cheek in one hand. "Your energy always feels like I'm on some grand journey or quest, off to see the world."

"You know, every city needs bartenders," Pat points out. He turns to kiss Roman's palm. "We could go see the world together, if you want. A real journey, together."

"At the moment, I'm still a bit stuck to Sardinia," Roman points out, his mouth twisting. "The Cavaliere family ties only stretch so far."

Patton knows exactly what Roman is referring to. Dante, who grew up practically in the Alps according to his cover, does not. "Why not test it, love? Stretch as far as you can. Maybe they'll let you."

"I... I really want to," Roman says. "I'm scared, though. My family has been all I've had, for so long. I know I'll always have Virge but... if I stretch too far and it snaps, what will I do? Where will I go?"

"Anywhere you want, słoneczko. Anywhere you can dream of. Your tongue already travels the world through your words and song, why not follow it?"

Roman seems about to speak, but stops. He glances towards the door. "No one can hear us?" he whispers into Patton's ear.

"No, these rooms are soundproof, remember? Otherwise we might have been caught, last week when we-" he trails off as he sees Roman's blush.

Roman coughs, then takes a deep breath. "Dante, I know this might be unwise, but I just know I can trust you. I feel it in my bones. Which is why I want to tell you... my family. The Cavalieres. We aren't just rich. We're... well, we're a mafia, darling."

"Wait, a real one?" Dante asks.

Roman nods. "Our moms run the operations right now. But as of tomorrow... Virge and I are supposed to start taking over. And he doesn't want to, not even a little. And I... I don't think I do, either."

"What are you going to tell them, then?"

Roman laughs. "Not a clue, darling. 'Hey, I'd like to leave the family business, please don't have me stalked and or killed'."

Patton weighs his options. Based on his observations of the other couple, he strongly suspects they're having the same conversation. And the timeline has been very accelerated. He's been dabbling his toes in all this time - but the opportunity is running out. Time to dive in.

"Why don't you want to take over, Ro?"

"I don't _like_ what we do. I've seen enough of what my moms do to know that I can't make those decisions, not knowing what the... collateral damage is. And honestly, besides Mamma, Mother, and Virge... I really don't like our family."

_Perfect._

"Roman, sweetest, you know I love you, right?"

"Of course, dear Dante, but why-"

"What if I told you I could get you out? Safely, or at least more safely than just hoping they'll leave you alone?"

"...maybe you misunderstood. When I said mafia, I mean like, full mafia. With hit-people. And guns. And more fingers in the international drug trade than I ever wished to be aware of."

"No, Roman. I understand perfectly. Maybe even better than you do. You see, you were right, my love. I'm more than just a polyglot bartender."

Roman's eyes are wide. "Dante?"

"First, I apologize, dear my heart. I've mislead you - my name isn't Dante. Because this job, and this name, is just a cover, given to me by an international organization. And that organization, मेरे दिल का प्यार, is why I can offer an exit."

"...a cover? International org... Dant- I mean, darling, are you... are you a spy?"

"I prefer 'covert agent'," Patton says warily, watching Roman for any telltale signs of betrayal or anger.

Roman sits back, hands covering his mouth. He stares off, clearing ruminating, when a strange sound emerges from his throat.

"Ro, are you alright, I know this is a bit of a shock-"

 _"EEEEEeeeeeee,"_ he squeals, hands flapping in excitement, revealing an enormous grin. "You're a real-life James Bond! Oh my GOD that is so cool! Do you have any gadgets? Do you use invisible ink? Oooohh, can you also speak in morse code?"

"Some, but not as cool as you're thinking; no; and yes, but that wasn't from training, that was because I was bored as a kid."

“Wait, is that why you know so many languages?”

“Eh, chicken and egg,” Patton says with a shrug. “Like you, once I’d proved my aptitude, they had me learn as many as I could.”

“...oh my god, the mafia just anti-spies,” Roman whispers.

Patton, in the middle of picking up his glasses, freezes. “Oh my goodness, they are. You’re so smart, Roro!”

Roman kisses Pat’s cheek, then frowns. “Wait, if you’re a spy, are you a honeypot? Were you sent to seduce me?”

“...technically my orders were just to be friendly. I took some liberties.”

“So this...?” Roman asks, lacing his fingers through Patton’s.

“Real, mi amore,” he replies softly, fervently. “Every moment, since we first locked eyes. I didn’t know it was you until you introduced yourself. I just got lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, dearheart. I might never have met you otherwise. I always wondered why I felt so free around you. Now I know- you were destined to come into my life and free me from the cage of my birthright.”

And they’re kissing once more, softer now, more gentle, and Patton is surprised by how much sweeter it tastes, knowing these kisses are exchanged with the full truth being told. When they finally part, Roman only draws back reluctantly. “So, Agent,” he says with a teasing smile. “How can you get me out? You can get Virgil out, too, right?”

“It’ll be a risk, I won’t lie,” Patton says, sobering. “If you or Virgil want to withdraw once you’ve heard the details, I’ll never hold it against you.”

Roman sits up straight. His face is set. “My whole existence is a risk, and not just for me, but for everyone around me.”

Patton nods sadly, and their eyes meet in a moment of perfect understanding. “I’ll need you both to agree for this to work, though.”

“I know he’ll agree, dearest. He wants to get out, too- and now even more so, ever since he met Luca.”

“Then let me talk to you both at once, okay?”

“Right now?”

“No, I only have two minutes left on my break. Don’t want to draw suspicion yet.”

“Two whole minutes?” Roman asks with a smirk. “I think I have an idea of how we can spend so much time.” He removes Patton’s glasses once more and pulls him into his arms for as many kisses as he can.

* * *

Logan plays with the hair at the back of Virgil’s neck, watching him compose himself once more and smile. “Do you want another drink? Or water?”

“Water, thanks.”

“Be right back, love,” Logan says, kissing his cheek as he leaves for the bar.     

Patton’s not there, and neither is Roman. He doesn’t pray ~~he hasn’t in years, even if he wishes he could~~ nor wish for good luck. He just has to trust Patton’s fieldwork now.

Instead, he orders from another bartender in the same maroon jacket with black lapels, getting Virgil’s water and an Old Fashioned for himself. It makes him nostalgic, yes, but nostalgia doesn’t feel so bad just now. It feels almost like nostalgia when another patron steps up to the bar right at his elbow as his drink is being made. Or maybe it's just déjà vu.

"Buy you a drink, handsome?" the stranger asks. They're shorter than he, but impeccably dressed in an understated sort of way.

"No, thank you. I'm here with someone," Logan responds with a perfunctory smile.

"I'm aware. But there's always a choice, isn't there?"

Logan turns with a frown, sizing up the interloper. His frown melts away as he recognizes the face looking up at him with a carefully innocent smile. 

The not-quite-a-stranger nods as they see Logan's expression change. "I'm a simple person, Mr. Principe. A simple person with a single job: keep the Cavaliere twins safe. By any means necessary."

Logan's training keeps his face smooth, keeps his throat from catching, keeps his heart rate inaudible even as it spikes. Recognizing them as Virgil and Roman's bodyguard and constant shadow, Logan can see the faint outline of their gun under their tailored vest.

"I have no interest in hurting either of them," Logan says, just loud enough for the guard to hear. He turns to the bar as if watching his drink being made, even as he checks the mirror subtly to see if others have approached. "I know I'm stepping outside my job description as tutor, but all I want is to make Virgil happy."

"Don't mistake me, Mr. Principe. I don't care about your dalliances with Mr. Cavaliere, until they affect their safety or the family's business. It may be well the case that they never will. I make myself known as a note of caution, nothing more."

"Ah," Logan says. "I understand. I know no more of their family business than anyone in Sardinia, and do not wish to." Falsehoods, of course. But these were purely professional. "Now that you've introduced yourself, may I be honored with your name?"

"You're polite enough, that's something. You may call me Mx. Octavius."

"A pleasure," Logan says with a polite nod. He accepts his drink and Virgil's water from the bartender. "You said you were here to offer caution - is your note complete?"

"Not quite, signore. You see, I am under particular instruction to ensure nothing untoward happens in the next twenty-four hours. You will be permitted to continue in Virgil's company as long as he wishes you to. But you will not be permitted to go anywhere with him that is not another public location or the Cavaliere home. I'm sure that won't be an issue, seeing how the night is going," Octavius smirks. "You're clearly a good, well-bred Sardinian man. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what might occur if your intentions are perceived to be anything objectionable."

Logan's mouth goes the slightest bit dry. This guard is clearly well-trained. Their tone remains light, their face open and friendly, and yet Logan, who's overcome hundreds of similar bodyguards, is intimidated. The plan won't work if he can't introduce the concept to Virgil tonight, and a significant obstacle just arose in from of five feet, two inches of solid muscle, steel, and a dangerously-calm smile.

"I understand you, messere. I only have one intention towards Virgil, and you are," he lets himself blush, _"well_ aware of that intent. May I return to him?"

"Of course, sir. Have a lovely night."

As he slides back into the seat next to Virgil, the Italian slips an arm around his waist. "Hello, sweetheart. Was Tav being rude?"

"Not at all. They were excessively polite, in fact. But it may be slightly more difficult to continue our discussion, now," Logan says, leaning into Virgil's hold and reciprocating the gesture. "I knew we were being watched, but Octavius appears just a bit more enthusiastic than the rest."

"They are that," Virgil admits with a kiss to Logan's cheek. "But I was thinking - I don't know that it will help much, to turn down Don and still be in the family and expected to act like it. I'll still have to do... things I really don't want. And I wouldn't have any choice. Maybe I should just ascend like my moms want."

Logan _feels_ the defeat in Virgil's voice, and his heart breaks just a little. "I... Virgil, you'd clearly be so unhappy. I don't want that for you."

"I appreciate it, Lu, but it's not like you can change it. Like anyone can."

Logan bites his lip, and wraps Virgil in his arms so that he can murmur in his ear. "Lieve, would you like to step out into the courtyard with me?"

"Is now the time?"

"Trust me, sweeting."

Virgil's expression softens. "I do. Let's go."

Logan holds Virgil's face in his hands and kisses him tenderly, lingering, smiling into the kiss.

"I thought we were going?" Virgil squeaks as they break off.

"I'm just establishing grounds for going off to a more secluded location," Logan says, adjusting his glasses.

"Sure you are, dork," Virgil smirks. He gives Logan another quick peck on the lips and stands. "I see right through you."

"You caught me," Logan says, grinning, arm looped around Virgil's. "What ever will I do."

Arm-in-arm, sneaking kisses as they walk, Logan and Virgil  make their way to the courtyard of the bar. It's enclosed by the building, still public, but Logan sits Virgil on the broad lip of the fountain featured in the middle. Next to the rushing water, they can't be heard at all, and the courtyard is open enough that Logan will be able to see anyone attempting to eavesdrop.

It's not ideal, but it's the best he can do on short notice.

Logan brushes a stray hair out of Virgil's face, letting his hand linger on the man's cheek.

"So, not that I'm complaining, but why are we in the courtyard, love?" Virgil asks. "I will definitely use it as an excuse to kiss you more, but you seemed to have a reason?"

"Virgil, it pains me to see you resign yourself to a future you don't want, as your friend as much as someone who loves you," he murmurs. "And I... may actually be able to help."

Virgil pulls back, just slightly, to stare wide-eyed at Logan. "Lu, what do you mean?"

"...have you ever felt like I appeared too quickly, or had too-empty a past?"

"No, why?"

Logan grimaces. This is what he gets for being so good at his job. "...there's no way to tell you except directly - I'm just going to come right out and say it. Virgil, I am not Luca Principe."

Virgil stiffens. "Ah. You're here to kill me, aren't you."

Logan blanches. "No, Virge, I'm not a hitman... well. Fuck. Not one right now. I mean, I don't intend to kill you or harm you in any way."

"Intend? That's not particularly reassuring, Lu- I mean. Whoever you are."

Logan stares. "Shouldn't you be more scared, if you believe that of me?"

"It's an occupational hazard," Virgil says with a shrug. "Or at least a familial one. You already know I don't really want to do this so if I die on the eve of ascension, no big deal, really."

A fissure starts to grow in Logan's heart. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning, then. I'm a representative of an international organization, one that represents multiple governments' intelligence and counterintelligence agencies. One that is very interested in your family, and its future."

"...and you're _sure_ you're not here to kill me."

Logan grabs Virgil's hand. "No, love, never."

Virgil pulls his hand back. "That's laying it on a little thick, isn't it? You've told me, now, you don't have to pretend anymore."

The fissure grows, deeper and wider, tiny hairline fractures spreading throughout the cavity in Logan's chest. "Virgil, please, I... it's true that you're my... 'target.' My mission was to get close to you, but..."

Virgil snorts derisively. He turns, sitting cross-legged, facing the fountain. "Well, mission accomplished," he says in a low voice.

"Please, let me explain, dearheart. You were my mission. But I wasn't assigned to seduce you. The mission wasn't to become your boyfriend. No one told me to fall in love with you." He reaches out a hand, slowly, and tentatively rests it on Virgil's knee. "That... that was just me. I hated lying to you, even just about the name of the person who loved you. It was me, though, all along. No acting, no cover. My name is Logan, Virgil. And I am utterly in love with you, mission or no."

The silence drags, filled only by sound of the rushing water. Logan stares desperately at Virgil's blank expression, hoping for a sign of hope, of forgiveness, even just of understanding.

"...Logan, huh," he finally says.

"Yes."

"That's not another cover name?"

"No."

"And you're sure."

"About my name? Yes."

"About the... other part."

Logan wants to wrap Virgil in his arms, to hold him as close as possible, to feel the warmth of his starlight. But he restrains himself, just squeezing Virgil's knee. "God, yes, Virgil. I've never been so sure of anything. I am enamored of you, completely and entirely, and it may ruin me as an agent, but I won't lie about it or conceal it."

Virgil's eyes flick to Logan's face as Logan realizes that the dampness there is not just the fountain spray. The Italian shifts, a bit, turning just enough that he doesn't need to use his peripheral vision to see the spy.

"So _if_ I were to believe you. About your name, about who you are, about what you... feel. You said you might be able to help. What would that look like?"

Logan takes a deep breath. "I can get you out, Virgil. It won't be immediate, or easy, but you'd be out, permanently and safely."

"And what would you get in return?" Logan looks up, and Virgil snorts. "C'mon. I don't know spies specifically, but if you're working with the heir of a mafia instead of killing or arresting me, there's gotta be some trade. What would you and this organization of yours get out of it?"

"The agency would dismantle all the operations. The Cavaliere crime machine would be disrupted and scattered, without needing high-profile raids or risky standoffs. Me personally, though. I'd get to see you safe, and happy."

Virgil glares. "Oh, am I the reward? You get a huge takedown, accolades, and a hot little trophy husband to boot?"

Logan flinches. "No, of course not. I would extract you, set you up in a safehouse somewhere, with a new identity, new papers. You could still live with your brother. If you don't want it, you would never need to see me again." He takes a deep breath, and continues. "If you did... I would be there, in a heartbeat. But I understand. I've lied to you. Our entire meeting was based on falsehoods. So it is perfectly reasonable if you pursued that course of action. It would not affect the validity of the offer I'm making."

Virgil sits, contemplating. Logan's hand has been withdrawn, and he clutches his own knees, knuckles white. A different approach entirely, and yet all this feels so familiar. That same sensation of burning, rippling out from the crevices in his heart. How he wishes he could be the ice-veined spy that the agency sees - frost _must_ be better than dying by fire.

"This deal, this applies to Ro as well, right? Because I'm not leaving him behind, or selling him out."

"Of course."

"Have you offered it yet?"

"No, I wanted you to know first. About the offer, and about everything."

"I appreciate that. When are you planning on asking him?"

"Whenever we can get you both together."

"Wait, _we?"_

Logan grimaces slightly. He hadn't meant to immediately tell Virgil, but overwhelming honesty can't be a bad thing at this particular moment. "Yes, we. I have an agent working with me, here in Sardinia. You've, ah, met. But Roman knows him better."

Virgil's eyes narrow. "If he's hurt my brother in any way..."

"I'm fairly confident any pain caused was entirely consensual," Logan mutters, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "It's, ah. Dante. The bartender."

Virgil falls quiet once more, pondering this new information. "...are you _sure_ the mission wasn't seduction?"

"Quite sure. You and your brother are apparently just... intoxicating."

"Or you and your partner are just both disastrously gay."

"In my defense, it could be both."

Virgil snorts, but immediately covers his mouth with his hand, and attempts a glare. "Stop that. You're not allowed to be charming when I'm irritated with you."

Logan's face falls, just a bit. It's not surprising. Why would he even hope for anything else? The embers in his blood remind him of  the risk, of what he has to lose. Memory whispers, reminding him that his love burns others more painfully than it does him.

"Can I... no, sorry," Logan trails off.

"Can you what."

"It's rude to even ask, but. Can I hug you, Virgil? Please?"

Virgil looks over, frowning. His shoulders roll back, as if he's shrugging off a thought. Finally, he relents. "Sure, Lu- I mean, Logan."

Logan moves over carefully, slowly, letting Virgil back away at any minute. He gently wraps his arms around the taller man. If this is the only warmth he's able to feel, it can be enough. Proximity was what sent him to burning in the first place, so what better cure than more infection. He brought this on himself, after all.

But then, Virgil actually relaxes into his hold, just a fraction.

"...how can I know you're not still lying?" he whispers. "About this, about everything?"

"You can't. You can only decide if you believe me," Logan whispers back. "I hope you do, even if you don't forgive the lies."

"...I shouldn't believe you, at all. You've said our whole acquaintance is based on lies. I shouldn't trust a single thing you say," Virgil says softly. "I should hate you."

"...that's a lot of shoulds," Logan responds. Ice crystals fight embers in his veins. He prepares to freeze.

"But also, I should do what the family expects. I should take over as Don. I should play the role I've been groomed for since birth," Virgil continues. "So clearly I don't listen to shoulds."

 _Don't you dare get your hopes up,_ Logan warns himself. _The liability is too much._

"Just to be clear, I don't forgive you, not yet," Virgil says. "But... I'm going to make the decision to trust you. Don't let it be a horrible one."

"Wait, was that...?"

Virgil blushes faintly. "You try being Roman's brother for 25 years and _not_ absorbing Disney references, okay?"

Logan's heart flutters in his chest. "So, you're in?"

"I'm in. Once we talk to Roman and Dante."

"And we...?"

"I... don't push it, okay?"

"That's fair," says Logan. _That's more than fair,_ says the embers. _That's more than you deserve,_ says the ice in his veins.

He glances around the courtyard, Virgil still in his arms. He sees no one-only the edge of movement. "Uh, Virgil. I'm sorry but..."

"What is it now?"

"I... we are likely still being watched."

"Yes, and?"

"And... we need to maintain our cover, for the time being."

"Our cover...?" Virgil trails off, then looks up. Logan isn't making eye contact. "Oh."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I can hold my hands up, stage kiss style. You don't actually have to..."

"It's fine," Virgil replies softly. He turns in Logan's grip, and connects their lips. And Logan burns, and freezes, and the ice melts out into tears he refuses to shed.

Virgil leans in, kissing more eagerly, and Logan melts into the touch. This can be enough. Even if it's a lie, this can be enough. It's what he deserves, isn't it? But eventually they break off, cheeks flushed, and he looks into Virgil's sparkling eyes and he is burning once more.

"We should go back in," Virgil says, grinning. It even looks real.

They do go back in, arm-in-arm once more. Logan continues to be impressed by Virgil's acting - anyone looking would surely believe that they're the same couple that disappeared before, the one that was simply in love.

"Hey, handsome, buy me another drink?" he laughs teasingly. "I think I could use one."

Logan leans in, letting his lips only just barely brush against his cheek, keeping up the charade without invading Virgil's space overmuch. Then he splits off towards the bar.

"Aperol spritz, please. And an Old Fashioned. Heavy on the bitters, if you would."

"I hope you only want bitters to counteract the sweetness of your young gentleman," Patton answers with a smile.

"I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic," Logan says. "Heavy-on-bitters is a Parisian style I tried once, long ago."

"I'd hate to be Parisian," Patton responds, busily assembling drinks. "Even their bread is a pain!"

"Life is pain, Dante. Anyone who says differently..."

"...is selling something," Patton jumps in with a smirk. "Lucky for you, I'm selling some delicious new cocktails I came up with. This one, I think you may like - floral gin, simple syrup, and a thyme-infused vodka, garnished with a sprig. It's called 'The Thyme is Right,' want one?"

"Sure, I'll take one. Is that what Roman's drinking?" he nodded to the elegant twin chatting with other dancers.

"He could be, but instead, he's got a B.A.F."

"A _what?"_

"It's this great mix of aperol, sherry, and scotch, it stands for Bad-Ass-Fu-"

"Okay thank you for the drink, Dante, I'm going now, bye!" Logan says hurriedly, grabbing both his and Virgil's drinks and speeding away.

"Don't forget to tell me how you like the drink!" Patton calls after him. "It might need more sugar!"

Logan just flees. It's as he arrives back at the table that he remembers why he needed another drink. Because Virgil turns and smiles crookedly up at him, and his dangerously-splitting heart twists in his chest. He knows he will do anything, _anything_ to keep this man safe and happy. He needs nothing in return - not a takedown, not his job, hell, not even his life.

"Hey, Luca," Virgil says happily. "Welcome back."

"Hi," Logan says softly, a smile stretching across his face without his noticing it.

"What was the bartender shouting after you?"

"Oh, that," Logan says, blushing. "Dear, I'm so sorry, but I think you're going to need to fight Dante for your brother's honor and good name."

"What good name?" Virgil snorts. "At least he picked better this time. His last fling had a _mullet."_

They sip their drinks together, side-by-side, and Virgil even scoots close enough that their thighs are touching. Logan selfishly appreciates that Virgil's committed to their cover, so that he can continue to pretend. And it's selfishness that leads him to ask, "Virge, do you want to dance?"

Virgil, to his credit, looks barely fazed. "Of course, محبوب"

As they reach the open space, though, the song ends and [ a slow one ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7sapKrjDij2fpDVj0GxP66) begins. Without hesitating, Virgil's arms are around Logan. "Are you leading, or am I?" he asks.

"It's your choice, dearest," Logan whispers. And Virgil nods, and leads them into a slow sway.

Logan tries to let himself remember the other night, the whirling constellations and endless time. He tries to recapture the soft warmth of earlier that day. But it was all founded in lies, so how can he remember it in the same way? Virgil told him he was annoyed, and he has every right to be.  They'll pretend, for the job. For the mission, and the plan. As the song ends, Logan breathes deep, forcing the tears to fall internally, not open to the world. He kisses Virgil's cheek, clinging to the least disruptive amounts of affection he can show. Virgil's hand turns his head by the chin, though, and the taller man pulls him into a kiss, directly on the lips. And his traitorous body acquiesces immediately, heedless of the growing cracks in his heart.

As they break away for air, Logan's eyes flutter back open and he looks up. "Virgil," he whispers. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. I doubt they'll notice all too much if we kiss less."

Virgil frowns, and opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the arrival of his brother.

"Hellloooooo, lovebirds!" Roman trills. "Did you miss me?"

"Sorry, who are you?" Virgil deadpans to Roman's pout.

"Just for that, I'm inviting only Luca to the fancy backroom party," Roman sniffs. "VIP only. That stands for Virgil Is un Pedo."

"Woooow, real mature there, bro," Virgil smirks. "No wonder no one believes you're the older twin."

"What? Who doesn't believe that?" Roman says, indignant. Virgil just shrugs, smiling. "How DARE."

"There's a backroom party?" Logan interjects.

"Oh yes!" Roman says, immediately brightening to explain. "Dearest Dante told me I could bring my favorite, 'sweetest' guests, so I guess I need to find someone else to come with you, Lu."

"But Roman," Logan says, deadpan and monotone, in a mockery of Roman. "However can I be separated from Virgil? My precious angel, my honeycomb? I shan't be able to proceed without him."

Virgil sniggers and kisses Logan's cheek. "He's gorgeous and he makes fun of my brother. I picked so well."

Roman huffs indignantly. _"Fine,_ you can both come. But I reserve the right to steal all your drinks!"

He turns and leads them to where another bartender is standing in front of a door, letting in select patrons through a velvet rope. When Roman and Virgil walk up, he gives a slight bow. "Mr. & Mr. Cavaliere. Buonanotte."

Inside the smaller room, there's a bar with only two bartenders and a much smaller group of people. Roman immediately snakes through, greeting friends among the regulars. Virgil leads Logan by the hand towards the bar, where Dante is chatting happily with a patron who is somehow more glittery than even Roman.

"And here's your Calice d'Oro, signore! No, thank _you!"_

The man moves away, dripping in sequins and diamonds, to rejoin a partner equally encrusted in emeralds. Logan and Virgil take their space at the bar.

"Welcome, buonanotte, can I interest you in our signature cocktails? Top-shelf only!"

Virgil leans on the bar to chat with the bartender. "Signature cocktails? Can you make me a John Hancock, then?"

Dante/Patton beams. "Ohhh I knew I liked this family! How 'bout I match a drink to your signature style, instead? I've got a Black Magic with your name practically written on it!"

Logan stays close to Virgil, but his eyes are working busily. It seems that in its exclusivity, the backroom has managed to lose them all the familiar faces from the Cavaliere household. A perfect time to talk - if only they can find some privacy away from the VIPs. Logan mingles with the crowd, and Virgil does too, reluctantly. His typical MO is a) don't leave the manor unless it's for a private event and b) if he has to, talk only to his group. The island knows too much, and assumes even more. But this is the life, and the job. The one Luca - _Logan_ \- has promised to help him out of. 

Out of the corner of his eye, though, Logan eventually notices Patton subtly slip to yet another door in the back and drag Roman in with him. Even if there are eyes on them, that won't, at least, appear out of the ordinary. But to join them, they'll have to time this right. He makes a circuit of the room, ensuring a few guests have come in and out, (and that they were close enough to the door that Tav and other watches will have seen them behaving normally) and a new bartender has come in.  Virgil's been holding his hand this whole time, because of the unfamiliar crowds, and now he subtly tugs him towards the door. Virgil raises his eyebrows at him, and he lets his eyes flick there and back before kissing him softly, approaching gently, letting him move aside to a cheek kiss if he needs to. Virgil kisses back, and breaks out into a grin, tugging Logan after him towards the back door. They slip through, into a small, silent hallway. Two doors split off again - one black, one gold.

"Which do we take?" Virgil asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The one my partner told us to, with your drink," Logan replies at the same level, pushing through the black door to reveal Patton and Roman. Who are making out. Again.

"Agh, at least your pants are on," Virgil mutters as Logan closes the door behind him.

"Sorry, kiddos, didn't know when you'd be catching up with us!" Patton said cheerily. "And Roman's just too cute to ignore!"

Logan glares at his brother. He's sure this is somehow all revenge for the files Patton had to read as his handler, and it's... okay, fine, it's not the worst revenge, but this is still his baby brother.  Yes, by only 3 years, but that makes a _difference._

"Are you ready, then?" Logan asks his brother, perhaps a bit sharper than necessary.

"Ready, Freddie!" Patton says happily.

"Wait, Freddie?" Virgil says, turning sharply towards the elder spy.

"Just an expression, Virge. Though now I understand why you picked the cover name you did when I was in Tanzania," he said with a glare for his brother.

"What can I say? I love Queen!" Patton said cheekily.

"Don't you mean a queen?" Roman interrupted, tugging Patton close to kiss him.

"Get a room," Virgil groaned.

"We did," Roman said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "Then you invaded."

"As I was saying," Logan said with extreme patience. "Now that we're all here, we can talk safely. And we need to make sure we don't take suspiciously long. Octavius is watching Virgil particularly closely tonight."

"Ooh, they are?" Roman says, sucking air between his teeth as if he's been pricked. "They're tough."

"So - did you cover names, too?" Logan asks Pat, who shakes his head. "I only covered mine. So why don't you go first."

Patton turns so he can see both twins, beaming. "Hiya! Like I told Roro, before, we're covert agents, and we're here to get you out of a jam! My name is Patton. And this is Lolo."

"Logan."

"Lolo," Patton says agreeably.

"I am 100% calling you Lolo," Virgil says, grinning.

"Same," Roman interjects.

"Please do _not,"_ Logan insists, but he can already tell it's a lost cause as he looks at the three identically-mischievous smiles facing him. " _Anyway,"_ Logan says, resigned and pushing through the despair, "as we've both mentioned to you separately, we can get you out of the mafia, and out of the family circles. We can promise that once you're out, you'll be protected from repercussions. What we can't promise is that the process to get you out will be safe, or easy."

Patton nods, and continues. "This plan will work only if you're both invested, 100%, so we'll let you confer before we hold you to anything. We can extract you, but in order to do so- you'll need to ascend. Both of you."

Virgil and Roman both go wide-eyed, almost as one movement. They make eye contact for a moment, and speak with almost one voice. "What the _fuck?"_

"Virgil, you asked what our organization gets in exchange, and I told you, bringing down the whole mafia, the entire operation, with as little bloodshed as possible. The way that will work is this: you two become plants, on our behalf. We extract information through you, giving you guidance to do so subtly, without detection. Once we have enough to legally break down the operations, we do, in one fell swoop. In the hubbub, the Dons go missing, believed incarcerated or killed, and we hide you in safety."

The twins make eye contact again. Virgil looks vaguely nauseous and skeptical. Roman is starry-eyed, dreaming of grand schemes and grandeur.

"...you're asking us to be snitches. As the Dons of the Cavaliere Mafia. I thought you said you didn't want to kill us," Virgil says flatly. Roman reaches out and squeezes his hand. Virgil squeezes back, and doesn't push his brother away, but his expression is fierce as he looks from Logan's to Patton's face.

"We're not saying it's without risk, kiddo," Patton says. His voice is gentle, understanding, but not overly soft. "It's a huge risk. It could get all four of us killed or worse if we're caught, frankly. But, to be quite honest, staying in the family without this wouldn't be much safer. Not with competing families and cartels, not to mention the assassination attempts."

Roman shivers a bit, and leans into Patton, who immediately wraps an arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple.

Virgil just... sighs, heavily. He looks up at Logan. "I don't want to die a mafia boss, Logan. I want to survive to be a free man."

"I want that too, Virgil," he replies softly. "I will do everything in my power to make sure you get your freedom."

Logan doesn't tell Virgil that means he'll put his life on the line for him. He doesn't say that he'll gladly trade his freedom for Virgil's. He doesn't look him in the eyes and say he will die for him. He means it all, so very much, that he cannot bear to tell Virgil this when Virgil is still so skeptical. He can't bear for the deepest truth he knows to risk being unbelieved. Perhaps, though, his thoughts were too loud, because Virgil slides over to lean against him. He's clutching the fabric of his skirt tightly, but he's warm against Logan's side. Logan tentatively imitates Patton, draping an arm around the Italian's shoulders.

 _Great job, you're terrified him,_ the ice whispers. _This is the only reason he needs you - because you're offering him a death wish._

Roman is nuzzling into Patton's neck, despite being taller. Patton's eyes are closed, and he's quietly whispering something sappy into his ear.

Virgil's grip loosens, finally. "Ro?"

"Yeah Virge?" Roman says, sitting up. The twins lock eyes, then both nod decisively at once.

"We're in," Virgil says.

"Both of you?" Patton asks.

"100%, honeybear," Roman responds.

"Then your first step starts today," Logan says quietly, glancing at the clock. "Go to the family meeting. Be introduced as the heirs. Act the part, as if we hadn't said a thing."

The twins nod in unison. "And then, tomorrow, the real work begins," Patton adds.

Roman buries his head in Patton's shoulder again, but reaches out without looking for Virgil's waiting hand. They squeeze in a heartbeat, then drop.

"Dant- I mean, Patton?" Roman asks.

"Yes, sweetie-pie?"

"Do you need to stay on shift tonight?"

"I think I can beg off early."

"Good. Come home with me, love."

Patton grins, and kisses Roman's cheek. "We should go now, then. Before we embarrass our brothers."

They leave the room, hand-in-hand. The door swings closed behind them when Logan speaks.

"We need to give them a head start again-"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, excuse me, _brothers?"_

"Ah. Yes. Sorry, last detail. It's less relevant. Patton is my brother."

"I think that's pretty fucking relevant??"

"How does that impact the mission?"

"It doesn't, nerd. It's just _a huge detail about how you know each other."_

"He's my handler - or, _was_ my handler. Now my field partner."

"Older or younger?"

"I am the elder, by three years. Patton's been my handler for seven."

"...wait, how long have you been a spy?"

"In the field as an agent? Ten. But I was recruited two years prior, and trained for that time."

"...fuck, how young were you? When they recruited you?"

"Eighteen. The minute I was legally an adult, before even graduating high school. I'd been on their radar, apparently."

Virgil sat up, still sitting as close as possible to Logan without being physically in his lap. "So you weren't raised into it, but... you know what it's like, then. Plucked out, selected for a job, molded into a person who can perform it well."

"...yes, I suppose it's rather similar, isn't it."

Virgil leans over, and kisses Logan's cheek.

"It's alright, Virgil," he says softly. "I don't need your sympathy. I chose this life, which is more than you can say."

"It's not sympathy, Lo," Virgil says, and Logan can hear rather than see the smile in his voice. "I'm just kissing you."

"Yes, well. We are quite alone, you don't have to do that either."

"I know I don't _have_ to, dork. I want to."

"Why?"

Virgil looks at him strangely. "Remember that time, like, 10 hours ago, when I brought you to my bedroom, because I love you?"

"You loved Luca," Logan corrects automatically. It's not self-pitying if he has no pity to spare for himself.

"You absolute fucking idiot," Virgil says fondly. "Yes, I loved Luca, but I love Logan more. Because I can tell that nothing's changed, except the truth being told."

Logan sits back, reeling. Virgil's reaction doesn't make sense. Why would he trust him now?  How can he go from hurt to accepting so quickly?

"...how can you be so sure of me?" he asks in a small voice. He doesn't make eye contact, not wanting to see Virgil's pity.

"I can't," Virgil responds softly. "I can never be sure. I can only decide to believe you or not. And I want to go through with this plan so... it's just cleaner if I decide to believe you fully."

"That's such a risk," Logan protests.

"So's life, Lo," Virgil saids, shrugging philosophically. "I can believe that life's a bitch and then you die, or I can have a shred of hope before I go."

"That's... rather a dim outlook, isn't it?"

Virgil smiles lopsidedly. "Well, in Roman's words, I used to be just an emo nightmare, so I guess this is what recovery looks like. Choosing to aim for positivity, even though it seems fake."

Logan reaches out, tentatively, to touch Virgil's face. Virgil leans in to the touch, moving closer.

"Can I kiss you, Logan?"

Logan hesitates. "I... don't know that I deserve it..."

"Who told you this is about what you want? You still looking amazingly hot and _I_ deserve to kiss my boyfriend," Virgil snarks. Logan grins at that, and leans closer, letting their lips connect.

When they _very_ reluctantly break apart, Logan looks up at the clock and blushes. "We should, uh, probably get out of this room now. It's been quite a while."

"Oh, and we gotta seem less suspicious, right?" Virgil asks. When Logan nods, Virgil immediately starts pulling Logan's shirt half-off.

"What are you doing?"

"Gotta sell it, Lolo," Virgil says, grinning hugely. "We were in here for half an hour and didn't get even a _little_ disheveled? Now c'mere, let me mess up your hair."

"But I like my hair being in order..." Logan objects as Virgil pulls him to his feet. Virgil pauses, and loops a hand around his waist and one around his neck as he leans close to murmur in his ear.

"If you don't think I was planning on wrecking your.... _hairstyle_ the minute I drove you home, you're _really_ gonna be surprised when you see what I'm planning to do with that skirt I bought you."

Logan blushes immediately, and pulls Virgil down into a scorching kiss as he messes up Virgil's clothes and hair in a similar way. When they finally emerge from the small room, and exit through the VIP bar, the few remaining patrons give them only brief, knowing glances as they practically stumble over each other towards the front door. Logan notes, cooly, that Octavius is watching cautiously, but without any of the alarm that would indicate suspicion. But then Virgil pulls him into a new car that's already arrived for them and he stops noting much of anything for a while, besides the feel of Virgil's lips and skin in the partitioned back seat.

* * *

Waking up slowly and groggily in the headquarters of an international crime family was definitely in the top three of Logan's "Strangest Stories From The Field," and yet he has never been quite so relaxed. The night with Virgil had been divine, and he's managed to avoid seeing or even thinking about where Roman and Patton had gotten to. As he sits up, Virgil grumbles in his sleep and snuggles into his torso. The Italian doesn't appear to be even a fraction awake.

"Virge, let go," he says softly, trying to pry his fingers off one by one without waking him. He's answered only by a grunt and a snore and a tighter embrace.

Then there's a sound in the hallway and Virgil's immediately awake, upright and eyes snapped open.

"Fuck!" he whispers, pushing Logan down and covering him with the blanket, much to Logan's confusion. Virgil lays back down, pulling the blanket to his torso, but Logan can still hear his heart beating frantically. It's only a moment more before the cause becomes obvious.

_"GOOD MORNING, BROTHER DEAR!"_

Virgil sits bolt upright once more as Roman bursts through his bedroom door, singing.  _"FUCK YOU, STOP PICKING MY LOCK,"_ Virgil shouts back, voice still rough with sleep.

Logan, stuffed back under very fluffy covers, feels Virgil pushing something towards him. He carefully shifts to take it and realizes it's a pair of shorts. With a blush, he slowly maneuvers to pull them on.

"But dearest twin, it is just such a lovely morning, I could let nothing get in the way of wishing you a wonderful, wonderful day! The sun is shining, birds are singing, Sardinia is bustling with life, and we, my fraternal friend, get to be a part of it!"

"...why are you always like this when you get laid," Virgil mutters. "Why does everyone need to know, every time."

"Not everyone!" Roman trills. "Just you. Because you're a grump. And I hope to encourage you to also get laid, a lot more than you do now. You need it."

Logan sees Virgil extend a hand in a wavering thumbs up, and he squeezes his fist in acknowledgement. He's decent, now.

"I oughta have a word with our dear Luca, here you've finally found a lovely, beautiful man, and a local no less, and he's letting you go home forlorn and neglected...?!" Roman continues.

Logan can practically picture the grandiose gestures accompanying his speech, and picks that moment to pull the covers back and sit up. He doesn't have his glasses, but he hopes he captures his normal sentiment as he looks down his nose. "What was it you wanted to discuss, Roman?"

Virgil's face is rapidly returning from red to its normal olive hue as he grins at the expression on his twin's face. Roman doesn't look scandalized so much as very put out by how quickly his teasing was disrupted. He stammers, "I, ah, well, you have, uh, seem to have taken care of it. I will, uh, go now! Buongiorno, Luca, Virgil."

It's only as he turns and walks back out of the room that Logan fully absorbs that Virgil's twin apparently busted into his room in nothing but red boxers with little golden Rs all over them and the most functionally-useless dressing-robe Logan's ever seen. That much lace and silk is clearly meant only for aesthetics.

* * *

Roman closes the door behind him, back in his own room down the hall, face still very red.

"I now regret bursting into my brother's room," he announces. "Or, I regret this one instance. It was definitely still funny last week."

"Because you surprised him?"

"...because his guest surprised me."

Patton actually looks up from where he's been curled into the soft, plush covers to raise an eyebrow at his boyfriend. "Guest? Anyone I know?"

"Yes, of course, and he was so rude, interrupting me _harmlessly_ mocking my dear brother by just... rising up from the covers, half-naked!" Roman falls dramatically on the bed, hand splayed over his forehead. "I have been blinded and scandalized by my baby brother's exploits. He is but an infant, a child, unwise to the ways of the world, and Luca is corrupting him! He laughed at me! He snickered!"

"It's so nice to know that Virgil will become just as mature and world-wise as you are now in," Patton makes a show of looking at his bare wrist as if it held a watch, "10 whole minutes."

Roman pouts up at Patton. "Darling, are you siding with _him?"_

"Of course not, mein Schatz." He kisses Roman's forehead softly, and then his cheeks, and then his nose until Roman is giggling and pulling him down closer to kiss him properly. Roman's dramatics and ire melt away as he pulls Patton until he falls over on top of him, surprising a squeak out of the shorter man.

"Roro! Weren't you getting up?"

"I was up, and then I fell for you, mi cielo," Roman murmurs in between short, sweet kisses. Patton seems ready to make them both get up for a moment, but then Roman starts planting kisses up his neck and his breath hitches.

"Oh, _Roman,"_ he breathes out.

"Yes?"

"I love you, dolcezza,"

"And I you."

"You don't need to be anywhere before noon, do you?"

"If I did, I'd cancel. I don't want to be anywhere but here with you, dearest."

They continue kissing and cuddling until they eventually slow and stop, and Patton just lays on top of Roman, head on his chest.

It's because his head is there that he notices the slight stutters in Roman's breathing. He looks up to see Roman blinking rapidly, eyes bright.

"Love? Are you alright?"

Roman nods silently, but sniffs.

"Dear, what is it?"

"...I'm scared, Pa- Dante."

Patton rolls off him so he can hold Roman better. "What about, sweet? Talk it out with me."

"I'm nervous about ascending. About taking over. I'm scared that we'll mess up. I'm scared for Virgil, and how bad he can be at hiding his distaste. And I'm scared for me, of failing, of disappointing... everyone."

"You won't disappoint me, I promise you that."

Roman looks down seriously. "You don't know that. I could get scared back into line."

“Roman, I may have only met you this month, but I already know that’s not true. I know you’re scared- but that’s not a bad thing. This is a risk, all of it. If you weren’t a little scared, I’d be worried you weren’t taking it seriously.” Patton runs a hand through Roman’s dark, wavy hair, his eyes soft. “The minute you thought about this, your first thought was your brother. Because you love him and want to protect him. That just proves your bravery, why you won’t fail. Because you’re doing this not just for you, but for him, too.”

Roman brushes away a tear, and squeezes Patton tight. “Thank you, mi amore,” he whispers. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Until the end of time,” Patton promises, his eyes determined.

Moving together in an instant, they’re kissing once more, but with a determination their lazy morning kisses lacked. Their arms don’t wander up and down each other’s bodies with the grinning ease of world travelers, but instead cling to each other, holding on as if someone might try to part them.

Patton does leave, eventually, reluctantly, and not before pulling Roman back into bed for more physical affection in all its facets. But even as Roman returns to his room to dress and prepare for the evening’s grand audience, his mind drifts back at every moment to the golden warmth in his chest that Patton had ignited, and that has yet to fade even an iota.

Later that afternoon, Roman knocks on Virgil’s door, and waits for his twin to let him in.

“Hey, Ro, what’s up?” Brushing faded purple hair out of his eyes, Virgil sits at his mirror, touching up his makeup.

“I just wanted to come see how you were doing. Are you ready?”

“‘Course I am,” Virgil says, carefully drawing a small wing on his eyeliner. Nothing too obvious, but enough to make his eyes look a bit more defined from afar.

“Virgil. I mean it,” Roman says, sitting next to him. Virgil rolls his eyes but turns to look at his brother directly. “Are you doing okay?”

Virgil shrugs. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why I’m here.”

“What, to protect me?” Virgil says, rolling his eyes. "The brave knight protecting the coward knight?"

“No. It's because I’m _terrified,_ V,” Roman says seriously. He looks at the mirror, watching them both in their reflections. “I might fail, there’s nothing I can do to really change that possibility, and I’m scared witless.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Well fuck. I am too."

“I know. But we’ll be terrified together." Roman smiles at his brother in the mirror as he finishes his second eye. "I Fratelli Cavaliere. Together to the end, right?”

Virgil grins and ducks his head, remembering hours of make-believe. Knights questing for treasure and princesses that were pets in costume and then princes, who were celebrity crushes. They hunted dragonwitches, manticore-chimeras, creepy-crawly death dealers that Virgil insisted were friends. It's been years since either of them used their old war cry.

“...I love you, Roman.”

“Love you too, Virgil.” Virgil hugs his twin, and Roman hugs back, arms wrapped around each other in an embrace that means, and has always meant, 'we are safe, and we are home.'

“Ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

"Let's do this, then. I fratelli become i Dons."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Short comments  
> Long comments  
> Questions  
> Constructive criticism  
> “<3” as extra kudos  
> Reader-reader interaction  
> This author replies to comments.


End file.
